


The Last Contract

by Lizardbeth



Series: The Last Contract [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Scientists, Comic Book Science, F/M, Modern Royalty, Slow Burn, other MCU character cameos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 70,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3813052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif has no problem with wanting the half-million to put Prince Loki Laufeyson out of someone else's way. Her problem is with other people trying to get him first. Or so she keeps telling herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on one of those tumblr lists of AU prompts. Because I'm a sucker for them, apparently. 
> 
> This story started out as a one-off ficlet, and then snowballed into ... plot! Characters! So much more. You may notice that, since the first chapter is very short. I hope you enjoy the fic!

* * *

Target sighted.

Sif accepted the champagne flute from the server and turned with everyone else to watch as Loki Laufeyson entered the ballroom on a flood of applause. His suit was sharp, she had to give him that, well-tailored to his slim form, and his collar-length jet black hair was artfully tousled, softening the sharper planes of his face. 

Not that Sif cared that he was attractive. Nor did she care that he was the prince of an insignificant northern country. He was a target, and she was being paid five hundred thousand dollars to put him out of someone else's way. The irony of killing him at a gala for saving the planet made her smile. 

She put her untouched champagne on a table and headed for him, twisting the stone on her ring to free the poisoned dart. One quick stab in the neck as she "lost her balance" and fell into him was all she'd need. Piece of cake. 

She hadn't quite reckoned on the crowd though, so many wanted to shake his hand or take selfies with him. Nor had she reckoned on his bodyguard, who wasn't just a giant of a man, but also was looking around warily with some skill. She'd been told Laufeyson went without a bodyguard yet that man clearly was one, and despite his tux, his haircut suggested his day job was the Jotunheim military. They must know there was a contract on Loki.

So she hung back, wanting to watch for a better opportunity. Loki walked up to the podium to give his speech. She didn't listen - it was something boring about alternative energy - but she did like his voice. It was pleasant, cultured as befit a prince, fluently English but with a trace of accent from his native Jotunheim.

Letting her gaze wander, as he droned on about something the rest of the hall seemed very excited about, she spotted a shadow moving on the grand staircase to the upper level. But there was no one standing there; the movement was only between the slats of the ornate banister. 

As if someone might be crouching there. But no one was supposed to be on the stairs or going to the second floor at all. Was someone else here for the same task?

She sidled to the side of the crowd to the foot of the stairs, ducked under the padded rope, and started up the carpeted stairs. As the steps curved around there was a perfect view of the podium. She reached in the high slit of her gown to the knife strapped to her inner thigh and held the blade hidden back against her fore arm.

There was someone there, putting an arrow to a sleek composite bow. Her eyes narrowed. Barton.

He was drawing and since he had a reputation that he never missed, she threw her knife first. It hit him in the side of the neck, and he fired his arrow reflexively as he grabbed at the wound, turning to see her and stare.

There was screaming down below as the arrow fell somewhere but Sif smiled tightly at him. "Mine." She ran up into the shadows of the second floor landing, glimpsing Loki's bodyguard pulling him away to safety.

_Next time, Laufeyson._

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

There was a next time, of course. Sif targeted one of Loki's work colleagues who was also going to attend the gala in Stuttgart, which was Loki's next scheduled public appearance. She claimed to be a journalist, eager to report on their exciting announcement, but she wasn't a big enough name to get into the event. Erik Selvig was properly sympathetic and asked her to be his plus-one, which she accepted eagerly.

Sif expected security to be tighter, which it was, requiring guests to pass through a metal detector. Sif handed her clutch to the guard to look at as she walked through the metal detector. As was usual, the guard looked very perfunctorily in her bag which contained lipstick, her phone, keys, a tampon, and a small wallet. It also contained a knife beneath the lining, but the case was hard-sided and once the guard saw the tampon, he didn't put his hand inside.

Mentally rolling her eyes, she gave him a smile of thanks for not being very thorough, and walked through, armed with a knife in her clutch and her poison ring. And the heels of her shoes, if she needed them.

This time, Loki didn't arrive at the front. Either he'd come early or he'd come up from the parking garage beneath, as he strode straight from the wings at his introduction. He had two bodyguards this time, and these two were not even pretending they weren't Jotunheim military commandos. There were police, some in "plain clothes" posted on high, and Sif relaxed to see all the security. No one else was going to try for him during the speech.

"Thank you, Doctor Schafer, and to all of you for your warm welcome. Certainly warmer than the arrow someone shot at me last time!" he said it with a grin, and many chuckled at the light-hearted reference. But then he grew more serious, "Some are threatened by my discovery. Entire nations that depend on the exploitation of resources are threatened by a source of energy that emits no pollutants, no harmful radiation, and seems very nearly limitless in potential. Some fear that, sensing their days are numbered. But to them, I say, embrace the future. Fossil fuels are the past - quite literally, they are the remnants of dinosaurs and forests of giant ferns millions of years ago. The tesseract is the future. What would this world be if energy was free to all? It is our path to a cleaner world and, I believe, a path to the other worlds and other stars."

The crowd applauded. Sif listened, and a frown gathered between her brows. Was this real? Did Arkady want him dead because he was politically threatening, or did Arkady want him dead because Arkady's money came from selling oil and coal to the rest of Europe and free energy would render the oil market obsolete?

"Everything all right?" Doctor Selvig asked her after the speech was over.

"Does this thing actually exist?" she asked. "Or is it a theory?"

Selvig nodded. "It exists. We built it in our lab in America. Well, he made the tesseract; I still have no idea where he got the idea but, like all great ideas, it was so incredibly obvious once I heard it." His lips twisted ruefully. "Probably the greatest discovery since the atomic age."

"Really? Wow, I had no idea," she said, and to her own surprise, she actually meant her amazement.

Selvig asked, "Would you like to meet him?"

She smiled at him. "Of course I would!"

"I'll introduce you at the reception." His smile widened teasing her, "Brilliant men who are also single and princes… I can see the appeal."

"I'm here with you. I like maturity with my brilliance." Her fingers trailed down Selvig's arm, suggesting things she had no intention of delivering.

He patted her hand, not really believing her, but as long as he introduced her to Loki, that was all she needed.

The reception in the next room was crowded, but Selvig took her through, confident in being a colleague of the guest of honor.

They were waylaid once, by an American cheerful voice, "Erik! You made it!"

Selvig turned and grinned, shaking hands. "Bruce. Sif, this is Doctor Bruce Banner. Expert in gamma radiation at Culver University. We've done a bit of consulting with him as part of the project."

Banner was just another scientist. Ruffled hair, ill-fitting suit, he was nothing she had to worry about. But the beautiful red head with him -- Sif's eyes met hers and Sif felt a chill pass over her.

"Quite a triumph," Banner said, "congratulations on getting it to open. I never thought I'd live to see it. Oh, sorry, I'm being rude. Natalie, this is my friend, Doctor Erik Selvig. And this is Natalie Rushman, she works at Stark Industries and is a big fan of Prince Pain-in-the-Ass."

Natalie Rushman. No, Sif knew better; this woman was not Natalie Rushman, she was Natalia Romanova, the Black Widow. Sif had seen her photo before.

Natalie's eyes met Sif's, and though she smiled, her eyes stayed cold. She apparently recognized Sif as well. "Sif, before we meet the prince, perhaps you would be so kind as help me in the ladies' room? My zipper's gotten stuck and Bruce is too much a gentleman to fix it."

Not feeling a lot of choice in the pleasant request, Sif agreed with a false grin. "Of course, Natalie. I'd be happy to help."

Black Widow was here. Maybe she was here for someone else. Maybe she was here because she liked science or she was really Banner's date. Or she was spying for Stark Industries. Her reputation was an assassin, but she did other things.

 _Please be here for another reason_ …

They didn't even reach the ladies room, before Natalie made a move that Sif didn't even see her start, and Sif was getting slammed into the wall, an arm across her throat.

"You took down Barton, but let me make this clear," the Black Widow said, "If you kill Laufeyson, you're dead. This is my contract."

"It's _mine_!" Sif insisted.

Natalie's expression was coldly pitying. "Not anymore. Go home, little girl. You're outclassed."

Abruptly she let go of Sif, seconds before someone walked into view at the end of the hall, and her perfect magenta lips parted for a wide friendly smile. "Thank you for your help," she said in a light voice and turned to head back toward the party.

Sif took a moment to follow, wishing she could take the knife from her clutch and throw it into Natalie's back. How dare she think she had some sort of priority? And calling her 'little girl' with such insulting scorn, as if Sif weren't both taller and older.

Loki was Sif's target. Her payday. Her reputation. Her retirement. Her way clear of this mess she'd made of her life. Her chance to start over. Black Widow didn't need another high profile success. This was Sif's, and she was not going to let some cold-blooded assassin steal her opportunity away.

Sif emerged from the corridor into the main hall of the reception, to catch sight of the red hair heading back to Banner. She would get her introduction, and who knew how she intended to do it. Surely not right here in the middle of the floor with all the security. Poison? Lure him somewhere alone with those pretty eyes? She was the spider hunting. How could Sif stop her?

Erik found Sif and brought her to him first, which was a great moment - if only Sif was in position to do anything about it. Up close, he was taller than she'd thought; even in her heels, he was still a bit taller. His eyes met hers, and he smiled; it was a bright, pleased expression, almost as if he recognized her, but that couldn't be as they had never met. But then his gaze flickered very obviously downward as if he couldn't help checking out the bodice of her gown. She wished he hadn't been so unsubtle -- it meant he'd be ripe for Romanova to pluck if he was so easily distracted.

Erik made the introductions, and Loki held out his hand to take hers. Very aware of cold eyes on the back of her neck, warning her not to touch him, Sif smiled at her target as warmly as she could. "It's such an honor to meet you."

"Oh, no, the honor entirely mine," he replied and lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across the back.

She shivered, something fluttering in the pit of her stomach at the touch. Resolutely she ignored the reaction. Stupid European royalty of stupid principalities the size of Delaware who thought they were hot stuff. She gave a little laugh. "Wow, you're smooth. Your Highness."

"Loki," he corrected. He was still holding her hand. "This isn't a formal occasion in Jotunheim."

Damn, those pale eyes were striking, and they were going to laser right down to her soul. She'd thought he was just an idle dilettante, the public face of the real scientists like Selvig, but there was a incisive intelligence to his expression. She would have to be careful.

"Is it really going to work?" she asked, a bit abruptly, and took back her hand. "This tesseract idea?"

His gaze narrowed at her. "You're not a scientist?"

"No, not at all. Journalist. I have to say it sounds too good to be true. No offense."

"No, it's good to be skeptical," he said to her, to her surprise. "Smart. But it's not a scam. It's not a lie. It's going to work. A tesseract is a," he held up both hands to gesture. He had long graceful fingers. "--a bridge between us, here, in the real ordinary world, to a dimension of … pure energy. Open that bridge, direct the flow, and … it'll be like a kitchen tap."

"There are a few… kinks," Erik said dryly, and Loki chuckled in wry agreement.

"Indeed. A few kinks. The energy right now overloads almost everything, and it's not stable, but it's so close."

"That sounds amazing," she said.

"Well, some people don't think so," he said. "But I'm determined to press on and finish. The future waits for no one, especially cowards who are so afraid of it that they send killers to stop it."

She flinched, for one wild second thinking: _he knows_.

But he wasn't even looking at her, just complaining to everyone within earshot. Possibly because he suspected there was an assassin in the crowd. But he wasn't looking at Sif. Nor was he looking at Romanova, so even if he suspected there would be an attempt here, he wasn't ready. He didn't know.

He muttered under his breath to Selvig, "Who invited Banner?"

Sif turned her head to see Banner - with Romanova - approaching. Sif had to do something. Black Widow would have Loki wrapped around her finger and eager to screw her against the wall in five minutes flat.

Sif had to do something. "Do you want to dance?" she asked abruptly.

Loki looked a bit taken back, blinking several times without saying a word. Had no woman ever asked Doctor Prince Whatever to dance before? He recovered his aplomb swiftly, and grinned at her. There was a glint in his eyes that she could only describe as wicked, he said, "I would be delighted."

He went straight to the musicians - to the consternation of his bodyguards - and spoke to them in German. The players exchanged looks and then agreed. They finished off what they were playing as Loki came back to her, a little bit smug. "I thought if you wished to dance, we should dance to something more fun."

He extended a hand, and she took it, wondering what the hell she was doing. But she wasn't going to back out now, and maybe as long as they were dancing in front of everyone, Romanova couldn't make a move.

Sif felt quite exposed as what felt like every single person turned to watch as he led her to the center of the floor, but of course, he was totally at his ease. Perk of royalty, she decided sourly. Damn him anyway for putting her off her game.

"So, what are we dancing to?" she asked as they stopped and turned to face each other.

"Strauss."

"A waltz?" she asked, a little squeak coming into her voice.

His smile widened. He was enjoying this a bit too much. "You know how to waltz, I hope?"

She lifted her chin. "Of course. Who doesn't?"

Funny, she'd never have thought her mother's desperation to make her daughter into a Southern Belle would have paid off like this, but it let her raise the correct hands to the correct position. His hand took hers, while his other rested on her back firmly tugging her closer. Her other hand rested lightly on the shoulder of his tuxedo jacket; the fabric felt so soft beneath her fingers.

The music started, and he waited a moment catching the tempo, and then his smile widened. "Ready? Shall we start with the basics?"

"I can do more," she promised.

His voice was warmly teasing, dropping to a soft register like a purr. "Of that I am certain."

They started with the box step, like the first day of dance class. "That's it? I'd have thought a prince could do better?" she asked archly. "Or do you want me to lead?"

Pale eyes met hers with a spark of challenge in them. "As milady wishes."

And they were off. She wished she had on a true ballgown, because it would be spectacular as they moved across the floor, his hand indicating the direction and they moved together. She had to concentrate, until he shook her other hand which was clutching his. "Relax," he coaxed and moved his head nearer. "You dance beautifully."

Her eyes met his, and she let herself flow with the dance. It became... perfect. They barely were touching, keeping a formal space between their bodies, but she felt his warmth all along her skin, and she didn't see or think of anything else.

For the first time she truly understood Cinderella at the ball, because in that moment when the dance ended, she would have agreed to marry him on the spot. Her breaths came quick, and her face was damp with sweat, and she couldn't stop smiling. Some of the watchers applauded, and she knew she was blushing but she couldn't look away.

He dropped his hand from her back, after a light stroke of his fingers on her hip, and then bowed over her hand. "Thank you, Sif. You are a fantastic partner."

"You, you, were, too," she said, all grace and manners deserting her, as he released her hand. His bodyguards returned to his side, one of them looking irritated that Loki had ditched them so profoundly and the other glaring at her as if it had been her fault.

"I apologize, but it appears I'm wanted elsewhere," he said to her and moved away, flanked by the guards. She couldn't understand the not-German the guard was speaking, but the tone was stiffly polite and quite angry, haranguing Loki, no doubt for risking himself on the dance floor for no reason.

Loki said something to quell the protest, and looked back over his shoulder at her, flashing a very unrepentant smile at her.

It wasn't until Sif saw Romanova standing with Banner by the bar, that Sif remembered she could have opened the ring and poisoned him during the dance. The thought had never crossed her mind while she had been dancing, though. And if she hadn't killed him, she wasn't going to let the Black Widow do it either.

Smiling to herself, Sif slipped into the back corridor that led to the kitchens, and the instant she was alone she slammed her elbow into the glass on the fire alarm and pulled it.

The shriek was overwhelming in the low hallway and she hurried back to the main gala, to see the guests being urged to evacuate by the police and others in attendance. Loki's bodyguards weren't waiting, suspicious of the fire alarm being a cover for something else, and they headed for the exit right away, flanking him.

On his way out, Loki's eyes met hers briefly, and he lifted a hand in farewell, before he was gone. Some distance behind him, she saw Romanova looking at him, too, but she slowly turned her head to stare straight at Sif. Sif just smiled back at her and sauntered back to Erik's side as they left the building to the sounds of distant sirens in the cold evening air.

Loki was nowhere to be seen, hopefully long gone from this milling crowd. Sif was still smiling.

_Next time, Laufeyson. Next time, no dancing, no charm, no Disney prince crap. You're mine._

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, hopefully someone's still going to read this in the wake of Age of Ultron, lol. And if you're thinking somewhere along the way my little 'assassin AU ficlet' gathered plot and backstory, you'd not be wrong. idek

* * *

One of the first things Sif did after Stuttgart was anonymously dime off "Natalie Rushman" to Tony Stark, that she was a spy and assassin probably hired by his enemies. Not that Sif was vindictive -- well, yes, she was -- but it was the best way to throw a wrench in Romanova's other plans regarding Loki by blowing her current mission. 

But having done that, it was unquestionably dangerous walking into the penthouse suite of Stark Tower. If Romanova was still around and she knew what Sif had done, there was a fifty-story drop off the outside deck straight down to Park Avenue.

But it was a beautiful view of New York through the twenty-feet-high panoramic windows, with the other towers awash in golden light from the approaching sunset. 

Erik had called her to invite her to the Stark Foundation reception, unasked. It was a gift falling into her lap, and she could hardly say no, even if Romanova might attend, too.

The Stark Foundation had given the project a large proportion of their grant money, which Sif had always thought was a bit puzzling, since she'd read that Stark Industries had no ownership of the discovery and therefore no future percentage of profits. Perhaps Tony Stark was more forward thinking than she had thought, not counting the hiring of assassins.

This was a fancy event, so she thought to take advantage of her few minutes in high society. She'd had her hair done into artfully tousled waves and worn darker lipstick to match her bolder dress with the mesh cut-outs in the burgundy satin. She knew Loki enjoyed looking, so she thought she'd give him something to look at. Not for the first time she wished she had bigger breasts, but that also meant she didn't have to wear a bra, and the mesh on the sides let everyone know that she wasn't.

It definitely got people looking at her as she walked from the elevator foyer, across the expanse of marble tile, to the ridiculously large bar stretching all the way across the back of the great room and its artfully scattered low couches and tables. But she paid no attention the glances, remembering how Loki had led her to dance so comfortably. She wasn't used to attention, she didn't like attention, but right now, remembering his attitude, she could handle it just fine.

Accepting a champagne flute, she turned to survey the crowd. No Romanova was in evidence, which was a relief, but also no Loki so far. She found Erik and went to him, to thank him for the invitation, and he introduced her to another colleague, Doctor Jane Foster, who was the third of their little triumvirate of scientists on the project. She was a pretty brown haired woman, with a wide smile she bestowed on Sif, "Ah, so you're the one he was talking about."

"Me?" Sif repeated. "He was talking about me?"

"Well, not so much talking, as incessantly humming a waltz. Until we were all about to kill him," she joked then grimaced. 

"Not funny, Jane," Erik said. 

Her lips twisted. "No, it's not, is it?" She rubbed at her arms as if she was cold, even though she was probably the most dressed of all the women there, since she'd worn a business skirt and long-sleeved blouse rather than an evening dress. "Someone tried to kill our friend. For real. It's like some horrible nightmare." 

Sif tried to smile sympathetically, though it probably came out looking more sickly. Because that was what she was planning to do, take their friend away from them. She wished she hadn't drunk any of the champagne as her stomach roiled.

Erik patted Jane's shoulder. "We finish. No matter what happens, they're not going to stop us."

"No, they're not." She had a very stubborn jaw, as if she'd had to learn to be twice as determined because she was short. It reminded Sif a bit of a terrier growling, little but more than capable of ripping out your jugular if you got close enough to the ground. 

"So you're saying the project goes forward, even if something were to happen to him?" Sif asked. Her gaze settled on the ring around her finger, wondering what the point was if killing him wouldn't stop the project. Revenge? Politics? Was it any of her concern? No, it wasn't for her to think about. It was business.

"That's right," Jane said. "It's almost done now. In fact if it weren't for Stark being the moneybags we'd all be in the lab right now ready put Schafer's iridium to the test. This is a waste of time." She looked up at Erik. "I should go. I'm useless at these parties, I can do more good in the lab."

"Jane, Loki's not even here yet." 

"Because he's at the lab, I bet. I'm gonna text him. No way I suffer this crap if he's not even here." She stalked away, pulling her phone out of her purse.

Erik watched her go and shook his head. "He's on his way," he reassured Sif. "You look lovely." 

"Thank you." She gave a little curtsy, smiling. 

"He'll be very struck." At her look, he chuckled. "My dear, trust me, I know it's him you're after."

Her smile widened and she admitted, "I was humming that dance, too. And I, I guess it's foolish, when I have nothing to offer him. I'm not a princess and I don't understand his work, but--"

Erik took her free hand and pressed it. "Sif. He doesn't need a princess or another scientist. And he certainly doesn't need yet another grasping socialite after his title; there's a reason he buries himself in work, besides being obsessed. Just be real. He can smell the fakes from a continent away." 

She was a bit saddened by that, thinking that his fake-dar must have malfunctioned if he had any interest in her at all, because she was as fake as it came. She didn't want to be a princess, that was true, but she only wanted to get close to put him down like a dog. Surely ambitious liars were better than killers.

Feeling queasy, she put her barely touched champagne on a tray carried by one of the help, unwilling to drink any more. 

The arrival of the target himself distracted from thoughts growing morose, as a dark unmarked helicopter landed on the pad outside. Sif watched as the door opened and Loki came out, long black coat flapping in the breeze. Sif had to grin. Now that was an entrance.

Tony Stark, apparently feeling upstaged, hurried to the glass door that led to the pad and it slid aside for him so he could greet his guest. He ushered Loki inside, and the helicopter took off again. 

It took a little while before Loki made his way to her, through the crowd. The fabric of his suit jacket was so long it almost looked like it was a duster, but in a black so dark it looked tremendously expensive. It was a fashionable spin on formal wear, that made poor Erik look positively ancient in his ordinary tuxedo. 

"Sif," he gripped her hand with a warm smile. "I'm so glad to see you again." 

"Erik was kind enough to invite me," she said. 

"Oh, he was?" He turned a narrowed glance of 'we will discuss that later' at Erik before turning his attention back to her, glance sliding with rather naughty obviousness down to her manicured toes and back up again. "You look magnificent in that dress," he said. "Dressed to kill, as they say." 

Only a supreme effort of will kept her from flinching guiltily. She chuckled, and then said hastily, "Should you be joking about that? I don't see your bodyguards." 

"I'm perfectly safe here. It's Tony's building, no one gets in he doesn't want to let in." He lifted the back of her hand to his lips. Ironically it was the hand with her poison ring, but she stood there, frozen, as he kissed her hand and relinquished it again. His eyes met hers and his lips parted to say something else, but then Tony Stark was suddenly there. 

"Loki! There you are, come on, I need to introduce you to Maya. She's got this brilliant thing with plant circuits, you need to hear about it. I think I'm gonna fund it, but I want your opinion. And she wants to meet you." He grabbed Loki's arm, and only then seemed to realize Loki was talking to other people. The brightness in his eyes and a bit of a slur gave away that he'd been hitting the bar a bit more than he should have, as he checked Sif out even more thoroughly than Loki had. "Wow. You're really hot in that dress. And you -- do I know you? How about you stay after this is over? If you think this is a great view, I can show you upstairs, 's even better." 

She didn't have to respond to his tipsy flirting when Loki smoothly turned him away from her. "Tony, you were going to introduce me to Maya." He glanced back over his shoulder to Sif. "It's lovely to see you again. I hope we have a chance to dance later." 

"Me, too," she called after him, then exchanged a rueful look with Erik. "He thinks you're setting us up. Are you?"

Erik didn't exactly answer the question, inspecting the beer in his glass. "I think you could be good for him." 

That made her laugh, a bit bitterly. "You don't even know me," she warned him.

"I know what's important. Even if you maybe lost your way," he answered. 

She opened her mouth to disagree, but couldn't find the words. He was right. She had lost her way - teen years of rebellion and running away, getting involved with the wrong people, deeper and deeper, cutting off parts of herself, until she knew she'd ended up someone she didn't want to be. All she wanted was to start over.

But these days, starting over meant money. She couldn't leave the past behind unless she could pay for it. 

Which was what this hit was for. She looked at her ring, thinking she could open it, drop the needle in his martini, and be done with this confusion. 

Contemplating getting a drink of her own, and another one after that, she studied the view. The night had closed in, the last light fading in the western sky, and the city lights had come on. It was beautiful, one of the best views of the city she'd ever seen through these huge extravagant panes of glass. 

Looking at the building across Park Avenue, she could now see straight into the conference room of the offices over there. It was empty but lit up so brightly she could count the chairs. 

The sound of another helicopter coming near wasn't a surprise, but its nearness did, as it came around the corner of the building. Another latecomer making a fancy entrance? 

But instead of landing on Stark's helicopter pad, the chopper slowed and hovered in front of the windows, swaying so close the vibrations rattled the floor, she frowned. Surely they weren't allowed to do that? 

Then the side door of the helicopter slid open, and someone appeared in all black tactical gear and a green mask of an alien. The sight of that jolted her -- Chitauri mercs used weird masks for their hits. There was a machine gun mounted on the floor of the helicopter that the merc turned toward the window.

"Everybody get down!" she yelled, and turned frantically, searching.

Oh God, Loki was standing ten feet away to her left, facing Stark and a dark haired woman. 

She ran toward him and leaped at him, as the first bullets crashed into the window and people started to scream.

The glass started to fall, but all she could hear was the thunderous roar of the helicopter.

* * *

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

Sif flung herself at Loki, slamming him to the floor.

The impact drove the breath out of them both, as she landed on top of him. It felt like she'd landed on a log, since he had apparently no cushion at all. She lay there, for a heartbeat unable to move or breathe as the deafening noise of glass panes shattering, the helicopter windstorm, and the gunfire drowned out the screams.

Arms wrapped around her, clutched her tight to a hard chest, and rolled her away from the window. She realized Loki was trying to shield _her._ Which was so absurd she would've laughed, except there was no time and she had no breath for it anyway.

The floor rattled beneath her with some near impact, tiny daggers of heat struck her back from glass and other shrapnel. She held on to that soft wool blend of Loki's coat and expected to die.

 _Isn't this what you deserve?_ A voice asked within her head, quiet and yet enough to drown out the noise all around her. _Fitting for you to be killed by someone else trying to do what you planned to do. A murderer murdered; a slayer slain. It's kind of poetic really._

She tried to argue with herself. _They were all bad people. None of them were innocent. They were dealers and warlords, no better than the people I was taking money from._

But that was a lie, and she knew it. They hadn't _all_ been bad people. Not the boy at Haragon, whose face she still saw sometimes in her dreams even when she was pretending she didn't care. And not Loki.

He was tucked around her, unexpectedly strong, not letting her struggle out of his embrace. Even though she tried to lever herself out by pushing with a heel to the floor, he didn't let go.

Like some great hand had shoved him, he jerked violently against her, and though she couldn't hear any cry above the noise, she felt the air of his gasp against her hair.

He'd been hit.

 _No, no, no,_ the denial that struck her was instant as the chill went to her bones. _No, not like this, not here, not now_.

It was a desperate plea to an Almighty, who surely had stopped listening to Sif a long time ago.

She clutched his lapels in tight fingers, praying for this to stop.

Much to her amazement, it did – the helicopter blades whined and roared and moved away. And it was gone.

At first, her ears were ringing too much to understand what had changed, but then she heard other people's voices, calling out in confusion, and that made her realize the noise had abated. She loosened her grip on Loki's coat and tapped his jaw to get his attention.

He still took a moment to relinquish his grip on her, but when she pushed, he let go. She wriggled out from under his arm and sat up cautiously.

Jesus. Two of the giant center panes of the window were gone, leaving a wide gap that let in the cold night air and made her shiver in the wind. There was glass shattered everywhere, shards catching the light like a thousand diamonds had spilled on the floor.

Everyone else was on the floor or huddled behind the furniture. Some of the cushions had been shot up, and there were bits of fluff swirling around.

She looked down at Loki who had slumped onto his stomach, the expanse of jet black fabric of his coat shining with glass splinters, There was a hole in the middle of his back.

 _No, no, no,_ she chanted to herself and swept the coat out of the way to look at his shirt beneath. It was rather amazingly free of blood around the obvious hole, but she didn't realize why, until she touched near it gingerly, trying to find the wound.

_What the hell?_

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt at the back and yanked it out of his pants, pulling it up his back. No wonder he'd felt so hard and bony – the bastard was wearing armor beneath his shirt. It wasn't a thick vest, like the police or military wore, but a thinner grey material soft to the touch, except the part near the impact that was rigid as steel. It showed a very obvious depression where it had been forced into his body.

But she couldn't tell if the bullet had gone through. He hissed and flinched as she dug her fingers into the dent, and she pulled back her hand. "Loki?"

His hand clenched into a fist against the floor. He said something she didn't understand, reverting to his native tongue, then he said through his teeth, "I didn't expect it to hurt like this. Fuck."

"I think I should leave it ," she said. "I can't tell if it penetrated, without lifting it, and if I do that, it might start to bleed. Paramedics must be on the way."

He nodded a little in acknowledgment, breathing with shallow deliberation to try to control the pain.

"You're going to be fine," she reassured him. "Even if it did go in, the armor did its job in slowing it down. But you, you liar, you never mentioned you had body armor."

"Always do now, in public," he forced out. "Father insists. Would've worn more if I'd suspected they have a fucking _army_."

She chuckled at that, and indulged her desire to touch his hair. It was thick and though he'd fixed the front with gel, the back was soft and was curling against his collar. She plucked a shard of glass from it and then more worriedly looked for other wounds, in case she was focusing her attention on the wrong one. But he looked alright, with a tear in his slacks, but she found just a shallow slash on his calf.

Beneath the hair of his leg, that muscle felt taut under her fingers. His information packet had said he was a runner, so that made sense. She was _not_ remembering how he'd held her with an unexpected strength, and she had smelled the light touch of Armani Noir on his neck. No, she had better stop thinking those things.

"Loki!" She pulled her fingers away at the call, guilty as a child stealing candy, and glanced up to see Erik approaching, with Jane in tow. They looked untouched, only the sleeve of Jane's blouse was ripped.

Deciding he was now in the hands of his friends, Sif moved away, pretending she wasn't retreating. The adrenaline was fading and she leaned up against the back of one of Stark's useless chairs. She would've pulled up her knees, but the attempted motion burned with sudden pain and she found a deep cut on her thigh that she hadn't even noticed. Her gown was sticking it to it, bloodied, and she folded the lower part of the skirt to press against it as an impromptu bandage, since the dress was ruined anyway.

But as she held the cloth on her wound, she saw the ring on her finger. She was cursed, clearly. Some deity had a vicious sense of humor, putting her continually in situations where saving him was her only option. If someone else killed him, she wouldn't get the money. Chitauri mercs would take the credit for this kill, so there was no point trying anything now.

Stark's assistant Pepper Potts emerged from behind the bar to check on her boss, who against all odds had barely gotten a scratch from flying glass and avoided the bullets altogether. He was bent over the supine form of Doctor Hansen, who'd not been so lucky. Pepper started to organize everyone, to prepare for help to arrive. Against her efficiency, other people's panic stood no chance.

Then finally, _finally_ , Sif heard sirens down on the streets below.

 

* * *

 

Sif sat quietly as one of the paramedics tended the cut on her thigh. He wrapped gauze around it and asked if she wanted a trip to the hospital to get stitches for it.

She shook her head. "I'll make my own way."

She had been one of the last people left in the room: the worst wounded were already gone, and the uninjured had been taken to a different room.

Regular patrol officers of the NYPD appeared to have given way to more heavily armed special tactics officers, posted at the window to keep watch, as the paramedics finished up.  A friendly uniformed patrolman escorted her to the gathering place, two floors down.

She wasn't the only one who had refused the hospital, she found, as she limped barefoot, shoes in hand, into the room. She didn't know what the space was for, maybe a company meeting space, since there were two large oval tables, about twenty chairs, and a large display board on the long wall. The best part was that it was an interior room, and her shoulders relaxed seeing that there were no windows, only a screen displaying a mountain scene. There was coffee, juice, and water, and the rest of the party snacks on a sideboard, but most of it was untouched as frightened people called their families, insisted to the police that they be allowed to leave, or just huddled under blankets.

In a smaller connected empty office, separated by a glass partition, she saw Jane and Erik helping Loki back into his shirt. The paramedics had removed both armor vest and the undershirt beneath it and there was now a wide swath of bandages circling his upper abdomen and lower ribs.

That left him bare to the waist, except the bandages, and her eyes strayed down the mostly hairless chest. His skin looked smooth and inviting, and she already knew what it smelled like. She bit her lip sharply, to remind herself that she was not here for that.

That didn't stop her from going to the open doorway and hovering there, until Erik noticed her and gestured her to come in.

Loki tried to do up his buttons himself, grimacing and fumbling so much Jane smacked his hands away and did it herself. "There. Here, let's put your coat on you, too. It's freezing in this place."

"If you're cold, you should wear it, Jane," he offered.

"I would swim in it," she reminded him. "I'm fine. And I'm not the one battling shock."

Erik helped him put on the coat without needing to lift his right arm or twist at the waist but he still looked pale when they were done. He sat in the nearest high-backed executive chair with a soft breath of relief and shut his eyes.

"You look like you should be in an ambulance," Sif said, for greeting as she limped up to them.

He didn't open his eyes but he did smile for her. "It barely broke the skin. It'll be fine."

Which meant it _had_ broken the skin, even if it wasn't so bad they were hauling him off to surgery. "Seems to me the heir to the throne of Jotunheim should maybe have a doctor decide that," she said. Erik's gaze met hers and he shook his head that he'd already tried that tack.

"A hospital seems like a fabulous way to be a sitting duck for another assassin," Loki said.

 _You're a sitting duck for me, right now, you moron. I'm right here and you have no idea_. She wanted to shout the words at him, but of course she didn't. All she could do was heave a sigh and shake her head at him. His eyes were still closed though.

Erik must have felt bad for her since he explained, "The three of us are staying here in the Tower, and Pepper called in a friend of Tony's, a Doctor Blake, to take care of the princess."

Sif had the impression the tease would have garnered a snappier comeback usually, but Loki just muttered, "How original."

She chuckled and said, "Glad someone has sense."

Loki tipped his head back to look at her, a weary smile tugging his lips. "The blanket looks quite fetching on you. Very moderne."

She tugged the shiny space blanket, which Pepper had found for all her guests, tighter around her bare shoulders and found a chuckle. "Thanks. It's my own couture line."

His smile broadened but then it faded when his gaze wandered down her front to see the bloodstain on her gown. "Were you hurt?"

"Cut from the glass," she answered. "It might need a few stitches, but nothing urgent."

"Good. I'm glad. I am sorry you were hurt because of me," he said, and he really did look distressed by that, with his sharp brows drawn together and his eyes bright. "And then you so bravely tried to fling yourself to cover me, though I was the one with the body armor."

"I didn't know that, did I?" she protested. "I just knew you were the target."

"How did you know it was me?" he asked. "Tony was right there. And he has no shortage of enemies."

Her stomach tensed sharply at the curious question and she knew she had to be careful. "C'mon, you had bodyguards when we met, and I heard about the previous attempt. Besides, I didn't dance with _him."_

"I am grateful." He reached between them to lay his hand over hers and squeeze gently. His fingers were like ice and were trembling against her skin, before he pulled back. He was not nearly as relaxed about getting shot at as he seemed.

"You're welcome," she told him, softening her voice.

Their eyes met, and he started to speak, "You--"

A muffled bit of music interrupted, and Sif chuckled, recognizing the Imperial March from S _tar Wars_ being someone's ringtone. Loki muttered, "This day gets better all the time." He fished the phone out of his jacket pocket with apparent reluctance, and blew out a breath before answering in his native tongue. The conversation was short, Loki's side always carefully respectful and controlled and sprinkled with a few English words, but when he hung up he tossed the phone on the table in annoyance. "Father," Loki answered the unasked question. "How did he know already? He wants me home."

It took Sif a moment to realize the person Loki was talking about with that teenage exasperation was King Laufey of Jotunheim.

"You didn't tell him you got hit," Erik said, lowering his brows in disapproval.

Loki gave him a look like he was the dumbest creature on the planet. "Of course not! He'd fly the plane himself to fetch me, if he knew that."

"He will find out," Erik warned. "He always does."

Loki waved a hand dismissively. "What's he going to do? Disinherit me? I told him years ago he should adopt some orphan as his heir and let me do science." Off Sif's disbelieving snicker, he confirmed, "Really, I did. He's never understood my interest in physics."

"He's your father, Loki. He deserves to know," Erik insisted.

Now distinctly not amused by the turn of the conversation, Loki fixed Erik with narrowed eyes and pointed at his phone on the surface of the table. "So call Gunter right now and tell him his father was just shot at."

At the challenge, Erik grimaced and didn't move toward the phone.

Loki leaned back and folded his arms, managing both grumpy and royal all at once. "Didn't think so."

"Okay, you two, cut it out. Maybe you _should_ go back," Jane suggested. "They can protect you better there, and Erik and I can run the iridium tests ourselves."

When Loki shook his head, proving he was more stubborn than was good for him, Sif said, "You're going to hurt more tomorrow. You should be somewhere you feel safe to recover."

Loki didn't ask her how she knew about being shot at in body armor, and he lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. "I'll have good drugs tomorrow. And I've had people threatening me from the day I was born, thanks to Father being aggressive over those stupid islands. It's nothing new."

"Loki." Jane's look at him was stern, not buying his b.s. "This _is_ new. This is the first time they didn't care who else got hurt."

Sif wasn't too sure of that. If the gunman had been firing completely indiscriminately, there should have been more shots and people killed. Instead, once he'd taken out the window, he'd focused on Loki and those around him, and left as soon he'd hit Loki. He just hadn't counted on body armor at a private party.

Jane's words seemed to hit their mark though. He looked down, brow furrowing. "Yes, that's true," he agreed lowly. "I never wanted anyone else to get hurt. Doctor Hansen might _die_ for no better reason than she stood next me." He looked at Jane and then Erik, and added in a softer voice, "I'd never forgive myself if something happened to either of you. These enemies are mine, not yours." He rubbed at his face, more openly weary and hurting, as his stubborn energy withered.

"Now that's not true," Jane told him, more gently now that he'd let some of the facade slip. "They're ours, too. Erik and I have known from the start there are narrow-minded losers who would try to stop us. We chose this, because it's important."

Little spat forgotten, Erik gripped Loki's shoulder in companionable support. "As soon as you showed me that equation, I knew it would change the world. And I knew some would struggle against that, with some risk to us all. But there is no where I'd rather be."

Sif's heart felt tight and there was a strange prickle in her eyes as she watched. She had never had anyone express that sort of loyalty, or love, for her. Even her own mother had spent most of her time trying to make Sif into someone else. And while Sif believed she didn't need anyone else, there was a part that saw Loki grip Erik's hand in silent thanks, and yearned to be a part of that. She wished she had anyone believe in her so strongly they would risk their lives. Or just anyone who believed in her at all.

"Oh, someone's finally taking us seriously. Look who's shown up," Jane said.

Sif followed her gaze, to the outer room where a group of four people – two in FBI windbreakers, and two more in dark suits – had just come in.

Loki opened his eyes to see and muttered, "Oh joy."

Sif felt the same, even if for different reasons. The police were one thing – she had no warrants on her own name, since she'd tried to keep that identity clean – but if the FBI treated this is a terrorist incident they'd be looking to make international connections.

She needed to make herself scarce. But she also had to get out without attracting attention. Turning a hip, she began picking at the bandage on her leg as surreptitiously as she could, trying ot get it to bleed again. It hurt, but getting arrested and deported to jail in whatever country wanted her would hurt a lot worse.

Loki added dryly, "I can't wait for the interrogation. Do you suppose they'll be annoying enough I have to invoke my diplomatic status, or should I open with that and get it out the way?"

Erik chuckled and patted his arm. "Relax. They'll only want your witness statement."

Crap, witness statement. But she couldn't ask him not to mention her, since that was too suspicious.

Loki's eyes on her were intent, and he asked, "Everything all right?"

"Fine," she answered automatically. "I think I'll get something to drink. Anybody else want anything?"

She didn't listen to what they said, focused on how she could get out of the building without the FBI stopping her.

"Sif," Loki's voice cut through the worry and drew her attention back to him. "You saved my life, and not to be an arrogant prick about it, but my gratitude is not an empty gesture."

The comfort she found in the words was erased the second she realized they also meant he knew _something_. Or her worry about the FBI was less hidden than she'd thought. She had to put him off, so she smiled at him and let the blanket slide off her arms. "Another time, when you haven't been shot in the back and aren't pretending you're not about to faint from the pain, I wouldn't mind you expressing that _gratitude_ a bit more... directly."

She was just teasing and flirting, not meaning it at all, of course. But if he thought she wanted in his pants, well, what she really wanted would be easier, wouldn't it? The benefits of saving him from other people's clumsy attempts was paying off in trust. Smile widening at him, she flipped her hair back over her shoulder, giving him a glimpse of some side boob through the mesh cutouts of her bodice, and left the little room.

Her leg really did hurt, and she didn't have to play up her limp very much on her way to the drink sideboard.

Pepper, always observant, noticed that the blood on Sif's gown was fresh. "Sif, you're bleeding!"

"Oh! Are the paramedics still here?" Sif asked. "I could get them to rewrap it..."

"No." Pepper shook her head, in firm refusal. "You need to go to the hospital. I'll have Happy drive you there. Come with me." She grabbed a stack of cloth napkins on her way and thrust them at Sif. "Here, apply pressure."

Pepper let no FBI agents or police stop her from getting Sif out of there. It was so easy Sif almost felt bad for them, as she walked right past.

In the back of one of Stark's cars, she craned her neck to look upward, but the only trace of the attack she could see was the growing media circus and the police cordon that she quickly left behind.

She pressed the napkins to her throbbing leg, remembering a different wound in the middle of Loki's back. He could have died so easily, right then, right in front of her. Inured to death as she thought she was, she wasn't inured to his, or to that sound he'd made.

Her fingers twisted the ring on her opposite hand, knowing it was a slow and painful death. He didn't deserve that.

She pulled off the ring and held it in the palm of her hand, remembering how he'd said his gratitude wasn't meaningless. What did that mean? Why had he said it?

If half a million dollars could buy her a new life, what could the gratitude of a prince buy?

Maybe she'd been going about this the wrong way.

* * *

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

In the comfort of her own small apartment, Sif watched the television news talk about the attack. The helicopter had been found in New Jersey with no trace of the attackers. So far there were two fatalities; the original pilot of the helicopter, and someone of the street below had taken an unlucky hit by the falling debris.

The news had started with the assumption of terrorism, then speculated that it was an attempt to kill Tony Stark, but very shortly someone had connected the dots to Loki.

Although as the coverage continued, she had to laugh, wondering how annoyed he was that the media focused more on the foreign royalty angle, rather than the fact that people were trying to murder him because he was a threat to the energy cartels of the world. Even serious journalists couldn't help mentioning that he would be the next King of Jotunheim, even if they only occasionally remembered he had a doctorate in physics.

There was some very wrong-headed speculation that the assassination attempt had been related to the decades-old dispute between Asgard and Jotunheim over a bunch of rocks in the north sea. The need to quell that rumor was probably what prompted the announcement that Loki and Tony would give a press conference at noon.

She picked up her phone to call Erik and get an invite to that conference, but put it back down. Likely the FBI and Jotunheim security would be all over that conference, and so far it seemed like she was under their radar since no one had come knocking on her door.

Slouched on her sofa in front of the television, injured leg propped up on another chair, with a lunch of crackers and leftover brie, she waited for the press conference, flipping channels impatiently. She settled on one of the local channels that was already broadcasting it, even though the anchors were blathering in voice over and the podium was empty.

It was held in Stark Tower, on one of the lower floors in a small presentation auditorium where there was a riser at one end to lift the podium above the audience a couple of feet. There were four grim faced, crewcut blond, fit men in black suits and ear pieces watching the audience from the sides of the stage, one she recognized from Stuttgart. Each of them wore a lapel pin that was the royal crest of Jotunheim and she was pretty sure all four of them had sidearms in shoulder holsters and were wearing body armor, considering how bulky they all looked. Apparently Loki's father had not forced him on a plane home, but had insisted on more security.

She also saw Pepper, talking to a news crew person before she moved to the podium, and tapped the single microphone. She introduced herself and gave a brief synopsis of the plan, and Sif smiled to hear her say "Doctor Laufeyson" repeatedly, as she emphasized his scientific credentials.

Then Tony and Loki came out together, Loki walking slowly and rather stiffly. Sif figured he must have some painkiller injected into his back to be walking at all. Then to her surprise, another man walked out with them - a larger blonde man, broad enough in his suit to make Loki look thin. But he wasn't a bodyguard; he was Prince Thor of Asgard, obviously invited to this so that he and Loki could make it clear that the attack on him had nothing to do with Asgard. They also seemed friendly, as Thor held Loki's elbow to help him up the two steps.

The camera people took a zillion pictures as the three of them posed on the riser. Tony moved to the podium, while Loki eased himself down in the sole chair on the riser, grimacing, and Thor stood next to him.

In the end, Sif took away three things from the press conference: the attack had pissed off Tony so much he'd agreed to have his Foundation manufacture the power sources, Prince Thor of Asgard was pretty swoon-worthy as he added Asgard's commitment to the project, and Loki's speech about bringing his invention to everyone on the planet was about half as enthusiastic as he'd been in Stuttgart, which seemed a worrying measure of how much pain he was in.

"Told you it would hurt like hell," she muttered to herself, seeing his hands curled around the podium edge tightly.

"We have a very good idea of who sent them," Loki answered a reporter's question about the attackers. "The FBI and my own security service have pooled intelligence, and I thank them for their care. President Ellis has said that the United States considers this attack on your citizens as well, and we have discussed a joint response. Those responsible are far less hidden than they believe and they will be brought to account."

The calm threat of his voice was a tone she hadn't heard before; this wasn't the scientist, or even the charming prince flirting with her, but someone who held actual power. He might prefer his science, but it seemed he was willing to pull out authority when he wanted.

As the reporters exploded with questions about who those perpetrators were and what the response would be, his lips pressed to a flat line and the corners of his eyes tightened more.

She wasn't the only one who saw it either, as Tony grabbed the microphone away from Loki.

"That's enough. You vultures know he was shot yesterday, right?" Tony demanded. "Thor, take our friend out of here before he passes out." Thor didn't have to, since Loki's bodyguards surrounded him and the one Sif recognized pulled Loki's arm across his shoulders to help him to the side door and out of the room. Tony announced to the reporters, "I'll answer your questions to him: yes, as soon as they know who did it, vengeance is going to rain down. Because a couple of morons forgot that attacking Loki is also attacking Jotunheim and they have some highly trained special forces. And did I mention that Stark Industries makes weapons and tactical gear and I'm highly motivated, too? That retribution is gonna be _sweet_."

Sif wondered if Arkady was one of those people on the list, and imagined a strike on his compound. Couldn't happen to a better person really.

Tony didn't stop there. "Regarding the tesseract project, yes, we're serious; yes, it's going to work; no, it's not ready yet, we'll let you know; no, I don't know if being Jotunheim royalty makes a Nobel prize sort of redundant but I'm sure if he gets it and he doesn't want it, he can give it to me; no, he's not married and yes, he's pretty cute, but no, I'm not dating him. I hear he's interested in someone who likes dancing. Glass slippers and mice may be involved, too, for all I know."

Sif had her hand on the remote to turn it off when Tony said that, and she froze.

 _Someone who likes dancing_.

Was that her? Was Tony passing on a message?

Her stomach fluttered. Someone who likes dancing. _He's interested in someone who likes dancing. Is that me? It has to be me, right?_

Her stubbornly practical streak said she was being ridiculous. She was acting like a teenager with a stupid crush.

If it was true, she needed to be calm and controlled; she needed to use it to her advantage. She didn't need his interest, she needed his money. His gratitude.

She had to be patient, and let him come to her.

* * *

That happened sooner than she expected, when that evening her cell rang with a strange foreign number. She ignored it, not in the mood for strangers in some call center on the other side of the world, but when a voicemail popped up, she lifted her brows, since junk calls rarely left messages.

" _Hm, I'm not used to people screening my calls_ ," a familiar accented voice said with dry amusement in the message, " _How refreshingly normal. Yes, this is my personal number. I meant to give it to you at the party, but you left too quickly. I was disappointed you weren't at the press conference. I hope that doesn't mean your leg was hurt worse than you said. I'm currently doped up on vicodin and a cortisone shot in my back. Which seem to be helping rather less than they should, and I am very tempted to drink from Tony's whiskey collection_." He paused, as if realizing he was oversharing, and he cleared his throat. " _I had a reason to call. I feel as if I know you, and yet I realized we've barely spoken, and I want to remedy that. Would you do me the honor of dining with me Friday evening? Same number to reply. Thank you, Sif. Good night_."

She kept the message and stared at her phone. Dinner. He was asking her to dinner?

A date. She had a date with the prince of Jotunheim.

Even as her mind was thinking of the possibilities for what this meant and what she could do with it, there was another part of her that wondered what the hell he was doing? Why was he going out in public right after an assassination attempt, when he was still so hurt he admitted the drugs were barely working?

She dialed him back.

" _Hello, Sif_."

She didn't bother with a return greeting. "Okay, first of all, no drinking while you're on pain pills. Second, are you out of your damn mind?" she demanded. "Going out in public? What if there are more hired killers after you?"

He chuckled warmly. " _I know there are_."

"Then this is the most reckless stunt I've ever heard of."

" _Oh, I've done more reckless things_."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," she muttered.

" _It will be quite safe_."

"I'm sure that's what you thought about the Stark party," she retorted.

" _And just like then, I will have you with me, so I will be quite safe, will I not?"_ he responded smoothly. " _If you agree_."

She only hesitated briefly. "Fine. Of course I'd love to join you."

" _Excellent. I will send a car for you at eight, then. I look forward to seeing you again, Sif._ " He wished her a good night and closed the connection, leaving her to stare at her phone bemused that this was happening at all.

She shrugged it off. It was time to put together her plan, since she now had an opportunity to set something up and make Loki even more grateful to her. She pulled up a number out of her contacts but, before she pushed send to call him, she realized Loki hadn't told her _where_ they were having dinner.

Oversight, surprise, or deliberate omission? she wondered. Pain killers suggested oversight, but perhaps he wasn't quite so trusting or reckless as he seemed.

* * *

Sif dressed well, trying for something classy without being over the top at a nice restaurant, with a tight black skirt to mid-thigh, strappy heels, and a red silk top with a low shawl neck that dipped between her breasts. Putting up her hair, a pendant at her chest and long dangling earrings, helped to point downward as well. She knew he liked to look, and she had no problem taking advantage of that attraction.

Careful eye makeup to widen her eyes, lip gloss, and dusting of powder on her cheeks, and she smiled at her reflection. Ready.

She carried no weapon this time, not even her ring, because this was not about that. Instead, her 'weapon' was going to be her phone, to tell her contact where to come.

The car was on time, a long black Jaguar, and the man in the front passenger seat, one of Loki's guards, came out to greet her and open the rear door for her. To her surprise, Loki was inside, sitting on the left, and smiled a greeting. "Good evening."

"Oh!" she lifted her legs in and the door shut. "I expected to meet you at the restaurant."

"It was easier this way." He admirably managed to keep his eyes on her face. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you. And you look quite handsome, too." He was a little more casually dressed than she'd expected - his black button-front shirt was open at the collar and his trousers were grey. Her eyes caught on his collar bones visible through the open throat, and she remembered seeing him shirtless. "So, where are we headed for dinner?"

He looked smug. "It's a surprise. But it's a friendly place, and should be quite low on assassins."

Up front one of the guards groaned and muttered under his breath. Loki flashed a grin, and she shook her head at him for needling the people meant to keep him alive.

The car drove away from the fancy restaurants, and finally pulled over on a rather average looking street with older shops and walkups, but she soon understood, as they appeared to be heading for a store called the Northern Bakery. Its facade was hung with the flags of the Scandinavian countries.

"A bakery?" she asked, lifting a brow skeptically.

"It's an excellent bakery, I get pastries here all the time. And there's a restaurant on the other side. I start craving food from home when I'm shot at."

The bakery looked closed, with most of the lights off and no one inside. But the door was open and the bell on it jingled when Loki's guard opened it. She followed Loki inside to see it wasn't just a bakery, she saw, but a deli and shop, too, selling imported foodstuffs and knick-knacks from Scandinavia.

Loki paused at the soccer jersey display, very prominently displaying the red cross of Asgard, and he moved the green, black and gold one to the front.

She snickered. "Can't help it, can you?"

He gave her a 'who me?' shrug and smirk.

Only a few more steps and an enthusiastic voice greeted, "Well, if it isn't the worst team in all of Europe!"

"Oh, how dare you? Which team got killed by the Estonians, hm?" Loki retorted with a laugh, then was shaking hands with a giant of a man with russet hair and bushy russet beard, and a booming voice.

He gave an exaggerated wince. "Don't remind me. Oh, and you must be the dancer," he turned to Sif with twinkling eyes. "I'm Volstagg. Of Asgard," he said with a pointed look at Loki.

"Some are born unlucky," Loki sighed.

Volstagg took her hand in his to shake it warmly and ignored Loki. "Welcome."

"I'm Sif," she introduced.

"Watch this one," Volstagg said to her. "Jotunn are slippery devils." Volstagg urged them into the restaurant. "Come in, come in. I have the back area ready."

Sif followed him up two steps, through a narrow corridor, past a kitchen and into a seating area of the restaurant. The wood paneling and festive flags made it seem beer hall than restaurant, and it was pretty noisy for a small place that could seat maybe thirty people. She heard mostly English, but snatches of other languages also from the people eating, as Volstagg led them past a few tables.

Loki wasn't hiding, nor was he trying to draw attention, as he followed Volstagg. But nonetheless a few people recognized him. Urgent whispers spread, and then at the nearest table, the couple sitting there pushed their chairs back and stood up. And that drew other people to do it until, table by table everyone, including the wait staff, was on their feet.

Turning, Loki noticed the attention with surprise and started to speak, before giving a little smile that he was clearly touched by it. "Sif, I apologize, but I need to make rounds," he murmured to her and went to offer his hand to the couple who had stood up first.

Sif noticed Volstagg watching with an approving smile, and she leaned closer to tease, "But I thought you were of Asgard?"

"We'll fight over sheep stolen a thousand years ago, but threaten one of us, you threaten us all," he answered.

She thought of that as she sat at the table and Volstagg bustled off to fetch drinks. Loki went around to greet people, while she pulled out her phone to text.

_Northern Bakery Restaurant. Shop closed. simple lock, beware bell. We're in back booth of rest. One bodyguard inside, driver outside_

She pressed send and set the phone aside, as Volstagg returned with two martinis and a menu, which he handed her.

Finally Loki finished and returned to her, seizing the martini with obvious eagerness. "In the past, last year, half the people in here wouldn't have recognized or acknowledged me at all." He shook his head with a rueful twist of his lips.

"Nothing like a little attempted murder to become famous, hm?" she asked dryly.

"Hiding in a lab isn't nearly as sexy, no," he answered. "I've been very boring. But at least everyone knows it was for a good purpose now, not only avoiding my responsibilities."

"Meaning your father?" she guessed. He hesitated, a bit surprised she knew, and then nodded.

"He wanted me to study economics or business at university. So I took economics for a semester to get him off my back and did my degree in physics. He was glad I wanted an occupation; he just wanted something practical, that he could understand."

"He must get it now. Saving the world is pretty easy to understand," she murmured.

He chuckled. "Well, getting shot does clarify priorities."

Her eyes flicked to the front door of the restaurant as it opened, even though it was too early to be Grant.

She lifted her glass. "To the tesseract then."

They toasted, and soon after she ordered broiled fish, and he ordered some stew with a name she'd never be able to wrap her tongue around. "I don't even like it all that much," he confessed to her, as soon as Volstagg moved away. "But it reminds me of home."

"I feel like that about grits. I don't want to go back, but sometimes I need them."

He finished his martini and signaled one of the waitresses for another one, and asked, "You're from the American South? You don't have the accent."

"Trained myself out of it," she answered. "I tried to leave all that behind. My childhood was… well, pretty much the opposite of yours." She toyed with the stem of her martini glass, thinking of the cheap whiskey and beer she'd had to drink as a teenager, because the good stuff cost too much.

"It was rough?" he asked, tilting his head. She appreciated that he sounded sympathetic, even if he could only have a second-hand knowledge of backgrounds not as perfect as his. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was what it was," she shrugged. "My dad left us." In truth he'd gone to jail and gotten killed there, but that was 'leaving'. "My mother tried to make me a Southern belle, but the rich girls all knew I wasn't one of them. All I wanted to do was wear jeans and smoke pot under the bleachers. I got into trouble." The funny thing was, her mom had tried so hard to make Sif into something the opposite of her father, that Sif had wound up even worse.

Volstagg set down an appetizer of fish paste and bread. Smearing the paste onto the bread, Loki asked, "Is that what got you into journalism?"

To give herself some time to think, she spread her own piece of bread. "Uh, no, that came later. Something I sort of fell into." She took a hesitant bite; it was a strong fishy, salty taste, mixed with butter, but edible. Loki ate his piece in three bites and took another.

"You should link me to some of your work; I'd like to read it," he suggested.

"Uh sure, love to." She'd love to, if there was any. There were the three articles she had faked, by replacing someone else's name with her own, but that was all that would come up on any sort of search. She glanced at her phone again, hoping Grant would call or show up and get her out of this line of questioning. But lacking another assassination attempt, she changed the subject back to Loki. "So what was it like growing up in that palace? I googled it, you know, to see what it looks like. And I saw some baby pictures of you."

"Yes, so much of everyone's lives are online these days, it's hard to hide from the past," he said. There was a moment she felt the words land, and wondered if he meant hers, but then he smiled, "Including once being a fat-cheeked baby in yellow duck… pyjamas." His free hand, the one not stuffing bread in his mouth, made a vague gesture up his torso, not knowing what the garment was called.

"Onesie." She laughed, knowing exactly the picture he meant. "You were adorable."

He pretended to hide his face under his hand, though he was obviously not that embarrassed. She would be more embarrassed by his exceptionally dorky teenage pictures, when he'd been a sullen stick with a mop of rebelliously long black curls.

But he kept talking, and he made growing up sound magical as they waited for the main course to arrive. Volstagg brought it himself, Sif's broiled fish on a wooden plank with salad, and a meat stew for Loki.

As he laid it in front of Loki, he announced with a broad grin, "Just as Mother used to make!"

Loki's hand, reaching for the bread basket, froze, and his fingers clenched to a fist.

The smile vanished from Volstagg's face. "I-- I am so sorry," he said, and added something Sif didn't understand that seemed even more apologetic.

Loki lifted his hand to stop him and, keeping his eyes on the bowl, he said, "It's all right. It was long ago."

Volstagg opened his mouth as if he wanted to apologize again, but retreated instead.

Sif didn't know what to say either. "Your mother?"

"She died when I was twelve," he answered, taking the roll from the basket and tearing it in half with far more force than necessary. "Cancer."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sif said. "I didn't know." She had read his wiki article, but it hadn't sunk in that the queen's death meant his mother.

"No reason you should," he said, and added more briskly, "Well, he's wrong anyway, my mother never made this. She baked, but we had someone cook for us."

"Oh, of course you did." Sif thought of her own mother, making mac and cheese from a box, and frozen vegetables. Sif had resented her for being the definition of white trash, though in hindsight her mother had probably done her best after her shift at the peanut butter factory.

"My dad died when I was around that age, too," she offered. "He got in an argument and the other guy stabbed him."

"I... am sorry to hear that," Loki answered, but did not seem shocked by the story.

She shrugged. "He was kind of a dick. He didn't beat us, so there was that, but it was no big loss, honestly."

"I am sorrier about that, then," Loki added, a wry twist to his lips.  

"One dead parent and one parent who wanted us to be something other than ourselves, gives us something in common."

"Surely we have more than that?" he asked. That set them off on a discussion of various movies and television shows, which surprised her because she expected him to be a snob but he wasn't. It was a fun conversation; so much so that when she was stretching, her gaze went toward the door and landed on Grant.

Instantly she went cold, surprised that it was time already. No, no, this was a mistake, she realized. This was wrong. What if this went badly? This could be a disaster.

Loki asked, "Is everything all right?"

"Just – thought I recognized someone." She laughed a bit hollowly, and pulled her phone into her lap. And not caring that she was being very rude or that Loki could see she was texting someone, she texted Grant: "ABORT."

But Grant didn't look at or seem to feel his phone buzz. He was chatting up the woman at the front, flirting with her, using those celebrity looks to charm her, preparing to get a seat and probably later to stand up to use the restroom, and make his move then.  _Grant, check your damn phone._

"Ah," Loki said, his gaze following hers to the door. "It took a bit longer than I expected, but now I get to see the final act."

His tone was so level it took her a moment to understand, and her gaze snapped back to meet his.

All of her assumptions, all of her plans, crashed to the ground and shattered in an instant, as she saw the knowledge in his pale eyes.

_He knew._

* * *

tbc...


	6. Chapter 6

Heart fluttering, lump in her throat, Sif tried for confusion, hoping that maybe he didn't know everything. "Final act of what?"

He smiled as if he was _enjoying_ this. "Your play, Sif. Grant Ward. Actor and occasional for-hire muscle. So which role is he playing for you?"

She considered denying she knew what he was talking about, but if he knew enough to know about Grant, he had to know everything. She couldn't think, beyond the pure fact that she was ruined. Everything she might have gained was now destroyed.

"You-- you know?" she asked. Very carefully she laid down her fork, so he wouldn't think she intended it as a weapon, and sat back in her chair so she'd have room to try to run. Though she probably had nowhere to go. "How did you know?"

"About Ward?" He jerked his head in the direction of his bodyguard, "Grundroth has been monitoring your calls."

"You tapped my phone?" Her eyes fell on that betraying accessory and then back to Loki's face, incensed.

He chuckled, which made her angrier, until she realized how misplaced it was – 'invasion of privacy' ranked way down below 'hired to murder someone' in a list of moral outrage. Not that it wasn't annoying, though.

He explained, "Not exactly. Tony grabbed the numbers you called. He enjoys helping his friends. Sending that e-mail about Romanova drew his interest."

She slumped against the back of the bench and toyed with a bit of bread left on her bread plate. She should have known; of course, Tony Stark would trace the source despite her best effort at hiding it. That stupid e-mail had probably been like waving a red flag at a bull. A very brilliant, tech-savvy bull. She sighed and looked up. "So that's how you knew about me? Stark told you?"

"In actual fact, no," Loki answered. He took another bite of his stew, apparently at his ease, while he made Sif wait. Finally, his eyes met hers. "Did you not think there would be video when you stopped Barton?"

"Barton?" She stared at him. "There was video? You saw me on camera? But that – that means you knew all along! You were playing me _the whole time_? You son of a bitch!"

Her voice rose, loud and strident, gaining attention from other diners and Volstagg at the door to the kitchen. He started over, but Grundroth blocked him and sent him away.

Loki chuckled, unbothered by any of it, as he reached for another piece of the dark rye to nibble on. "When you stopped Barton, I read your file, and I was curious when you showed up again in Stuttgart."

She did not understand one word he was saying. "Are you crazy?" she demanded. "You knew what I was, what I intended to do, and you danced with me? I could've killed you right then. Are you completely out of your damn mind?"

His smile broadened to a grin, bright and reckless. "Possibly. Grundroth--" he pointed his chin in that direction, "thinks so. He despised this plan. But I have a certain... intuition about people. And your file reads like someone who got in over her head and then made the most ethical choices you could. I didn't believe you'd bring yourself to murder me. So then, imagine my disappointment when I realized you were planning something with Mister Ward."

He lifted a hand and pointed at Ward. Across the restaurant, by the front window, the couple who had been eating pastries saw the gesture, stood up, and flanked Ward, making it clear they weren't the restaurant patrons they were pretending to be. She had thought she was setting up Loki, but now it was clear he had set her up instead.

The pair of security or Jotunheim intelligence agents or whatever they were hustled Ward outside, presumably to question and search him, which meant it was only a matter of time before they figured out it was all a ploy anyway.

She sighed. "Not to kill you," she admitted, defeated. "Grant was just supposed to threaten."

"Why?"

"The only reason I wanted the contract was to take the money and disappear to a new life. But I couldn't because at first I had to keep the others off you, and then, somewhere along the way...." she raised her hands in helpless frustration, not able to fully explain it even to herself. "I thought you'd be some pampered useless asshole prince, so I could do it and not care. But you're not."

His smile looked a bit too pleased as he leaned back. "Thank you. Good of you to notice."

"You're still pampered and kind of an asshole, but not useless," she muttered.

His smile widened to a smirk, reading more into that correction than she'd intended. But he continued his questioning, not distracted from the main point. "What good did threatening me this evening do, then?"

"I was going to stop him. I wanted you grateful. And get you close. For the money."

It sounded so... hollow when she said it aloud, and felt like ashes in her mouth. It was cheap. Here he was planning to bring free energy to everyone on the planet, and she had been planning to kill someone for a gangster's pocket change.

"You didn't think I would be sufficiently grateful after the Tower?" he asked, arching his brows, then he smiled. "Or did you just want another chance to throw yourself on top of me?"

Her head snapped up. "No! Think highly of yourself, don't you?"

Laughing softly, he said, "There you are. So, tell me, how much was your payday supposed to be?"

"Five hundred grand."

"Dollars?" he asked, when she nodded, he sat back in his chair, frowning. "Who offered that?"

Well aware what she was confessing and the possible results of telling him might be, she answered, "Arkady Thanos. He's a--"

Loki cut her off with a flip of his hand. "I know who he is." He pondered the name and then humpfed an irritated breath. "He offered you only half a million?"

"You're _offended_ Arkady thought your life worth only five hundred grand?" she asked, unable not to snicker at that.

"Of course," he answered, not at all embarrassed to admit that. "That's an insult. I should move him to the top of my retaliation list."

Sif wondered who the actual top of that list was-- probably whichever thug had offered the Chitauri contract which had to be more than a million, since that was the Chitauri group's price to talk. "Well, if it makes you feel better, he was low-balling me. He knew I needed the job. So don't underestimate him. He's dangerous."

"I assume you will be assisting us in our research," Loki said smoothly, and she grimaced, as the full scope of his plan fell into place. He wanted her to provide intel on his enemies. It had been no oversight that no one had sought her out to get a statement after the party, because Loki had no intention of getting her arrested into American custody.

"Does the FBI even know I was at the Stark party?" she asked. "Or did you and Tony cover it up?"

Loki smiled. "Funny how your name never appeared in the guest list. Pepper is very efficient."

"And Erik's going along with this?" she looked down at the remainder of her fish, not hungry enough to finish. "Was he playing me, too?"

"No, he knew I was interested in you after Stuttgart, but not why. Only Grundroth and I knew all of it, and Tony later," Loki explained. "Erik invited you to the party on his own."

"Oh, good," she said. At least Erik didn't know she was an assassin, not yet. He believed she was a good person, and she wasn't. She wished he didn't have to know the truth, at all.

Grundroth took advantage of the pause in the conversation, to lean down to Loki's ear and murmur something in it. He watched her as he did it, disapproval radiating from him like heat from a hot oven, and it made her glare back at him. It was not her fault his boss was a reckless idiot. And really it was his fault for going along with Loki's hare-brained scheme which, if she'd been as evil as he thought she was, would have resulted in Loki dead on the floor and her laughing her way to half a million dollars.

She doubted Grundroth got all that, but he returned to his post and Loki nodded. "He confirms that the only weapon found on Ward was a toy."

"So, what happens now?" she asked him. "I get on your leash?"

Lifting his brows at her, he smirked at her and said with thick innuendo, "Well, if you like that sort of thing..."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh for-- I walked into that one, didn't I?"

"Well, yes," he chuckled and then grew more serious. "No, it is not a leash. And I will not threaten you. But you know I intend to punish those who attacked me, and I would like your help with that."

As expected. She pondered for a moment and then shook her head. "I hate to disappoint you again, but I have to ask, if you're not threatening me with arrest, then what's in it for me? I help you with this, I make enemies. I'd have to disappear."

"You want money?"

"Money makes disappearing and a new identity easier," she pointed out. "That's why I was tangled in this mess in the first place."

He pushed back in his seat and regarded her. "Unfortunately, my title does not come with piles of cash, but it does come with something else you might find useful."

"Which is?"

He folded his fingers together, thumb rubbing idly against the back of his opposite hand. It might be a nervous gesture, but if so, nothing in his face or voice shared that anxiety, as he offered, "Help me take down Thanos and I will see to it the warrant on you is rescinded. You could be free of law enforcement attention."

"You can do that?"

He spread his hands. "No money, but influence I do have."

He knew exactly how to tempt her. That was the main problem with her current identity- the warrant had her former alias, but it was definitely her, and she was always worried that someone would link them. As clearly Loki already had, to know it existed at all.

His offer was tempting until she remembered exactly what sort of person Arkady Thanos was. "Trade looking over my shoulder for police, to looking over my shoulder for him? No. He's far more dangerous."

"Not if we remove him."

She shook her head at his naivete. "Unless you kill him – and good luck with that – prison won't stop him. And if your people go after him and miss? He'll come back after you, and me, and everyone else, and he's a monster. I heard he chopped off his daughter's hand for betraying him. He tortures people for fun." Shaking her head again, with more emphasis, she promised, "Look, I won't do anything against you, I swear I'm done with that, but I'm not going against him. No fucking way. I got into this because I like being alive."

She said it lightly, but she was serious, and he didn't even crack a smile so he understood. Instead he didn't respond at first, looking down at his bowl before he pushed it away, as if he'd lost his appetite. But then he grabbed another piece of bread. She didn't know where he was putting all of that food on his slender frame. He let out a heavy breath. "Well, I confess that is disappointing. But I said I wouldn't force you, so I won't."

That didn't sound like he was giving up the plan of attack. "You should leave him alone."

"Oh, no, Sif, you are very mistaken if you think that is something I'm willing to do. Thanos hired the Chitauri as well." He didn't pause for that revelation, though she wondered why she was surprised. Of course Thanos would send someone else, hoping one of them would be successful. Or he'd just assumed she would fail.

Loki continued, "My father is furious and has called our parliament into emergency session tomorrow, something the king has not done since the Nazis invaded. I have to fly back to attend. Tonight."

She didn't know what to say to that, but felt disappointed that he'd apparently planned to leave quickly, all along. It was a stupid thing to feel, since it wasn't as if either of them had expected an ordinary date this evening: he'd planned to draw her out, and she'd planned to wave a gun in his face. Dinner, a show and going back to his place had never been on the table.

He chuckled in wry humor. "So Thanos accomplished one thing no one else has-- getting me to put science aside. I intend to make him very sorry he made me leave the lab." He said it still humorously, but his light eyes were very cold, and she knew he meant every word. When she said nothing, he put both hands flat on the table. "We could use your help, but with or without, we will get him. And the two behind Romanova and Barton as well."

She lifted her brows and tried to tease, "Is that the royal 'we' or are you planning on being dumb enough to go on the strike team yourself?"

"I like to think I'm more clever than putting myself in the house of someone who wants me dead," he answered.

"Good. Glad to hear it. I don't _believe_ it, but I'm glad to hear it." She turned her head to address Grundroth, "You need to learn how to tell him no. Because he obviously hasn't got the sense God gave a chicken."

Grundroth ignored her, and Loki chuckled. "I think you have little room to complain about me. But I think it's time to say goodnight, and goodbye. I regret we could not continue our acquaintance, but thank you for helping me and saving my life, and generally being lousy at your job, Sif ."

She had to laugh at that, appreciating the irony. "You're welcome. I guess."

He rose to his feet, lips flattening and one hand going to the small of his back as if his injury was still making itself felt. But despite that, his eyes flicked down, checking her cleavage from this higher vantage, before returning to her face and finding a smile for her. He seemed to have a little trouble finding some words, before he said with greater formality, "Volstagg will call you a cab when you're ready to leave." He gave her a nod of his head in farewell. "Be well."

"You, too," she wished him and watched as he headed for the restaurant entrance, Grundroth at his heels.

The door swung closed behind them, and she looked at the empty chair opposite her own. He was gone. He'd get on a plane, go back to Jotunheim, get embroiled in this counter-attack on Arkady, and it would get ugly. Not that mercenaries shooting up Stark Tower wasn't already ugly, but it could be uglier. Arkady believed he was untouchable; he was a big man in a big chair, tucked behind big walls and lots of unpleasant big men with guns. He'd probably laughed at Tony's conference and the idea that anyone could reach him to retaliate. Anyone attacking him was asking for it.

But she was out of it. She was done with the prince of Jotunheim. She'd kept him alive, but that didn't mean she had to keep doing it. He was not her responsibility. He had an entire country of people who wanted to keep him safe.

Except none of them had stopped him from meeting her here, where Ward could have shot him from across the restaurant, or she could have poisoned him or stabbed him. Because he was always right about people, only until he was wrong, and right now being wrong could cost him his life.

She owed him nothing. He owed her, if anything.

If that was true, why did it feel so wrong to look at his empty chair?


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

 

Volstagg returned to clear the table. "I'd never have thought he would leave you here on your own, when he's usually so mannered."

Shaking her head, she answered the implicit question, "He wanted me to do something for him, I refused."

"Was he wrong to ask?"

"No. He was right."

"Were you wrong to refuse?"

That answer came slower. "No. I'm sure it was right." Refusing to shove her hand into a wasp nest was a smart choice. The right choice. "But... it doesn't feel good."

"I am not a person to ask about resisting things," he slapped his ample belly, "but my philosophy, whether it is pastry or life in general, is that we should do what feels good as long as it does no harm. Restraint is for church," he waved a hand dismissively. "We live here, on Earth, and we should eat good bread, not that trendy sprouted crap, and do good things while we're here. Or, what is the point?"

He didn't wait for an answer, slamming a heavy hand to the table. "I will bring coffee and dessert for you, to drown your sorrows in pastry. As it should be."

She opened her mouth to say she didn't want anything but closed it again, as he hurried away. Why not have dessert? She wasn't drowning her sorrows; she was celebrating that she was done with the prince of Jotunheim. He was alive, and that was surely her good karma for the year, and she was alive. They could go their separate ways-- him back to his exotic life, and her to her new life of keeping away from law enforcement, staying off the grid, and keeping her head down. She could find a new job, probably have to move out of the city, start a phase of her life away from the glamour and excitement of her previous life.

It sounded safe, but dear God, so boring.

Volstagg set a small coffee before her with cream and sugar pots, and then with a stage flourish put a plate with a gorgeous puff-pastry with chocolate sauce on it. "The custard horn, with chocolate sauce, specialty of Jotunheim."

"Looks delicious." She looked up at him. "Volstagg, when Loki said he's done reckless things before, do you know what he did?"

Volstagg laughed. "Oh, goodness, what did he not do? He became friends with Prince Thor, and I know of sailing, mountain climbing... I hear King Laufey was especially distressed they took up Formula One for a little while."

"He used to race cars? Jesus." She shook her head, and shoveled more of the pastry in her mouth. She'd had fish for dinner, she could treat herself. And it really was delicious.

"As a hobby, not on the circuit," Volstagg corrected, but she waved it away.

Racing cars was reckless, but mountain climbing was worse, because that meant he probably thought he had outdoor skills. "Can he shoot?"

"Oh yes, of course. It is a long tradition that Jotunheim produces great competitors in biathalon. Laufey himself was one, and I'm sure he hoped his son would be, too."

Worse and worse. There was nothing more dangerous than someone who had dabbled in something enough to get overconfident in their skills. He was the one who had decided to play games with an _assassin_ \-- was he really going to be content staying safe at home while he let his military go after Thanos? He said so, but she didn't believe it. 

She stood up. "Volstagg, I need to go after him. He's going to do something risky and dumb, and I said no when he asked me to come with him. I should have said yes."

With admirable alacrity, as if he'd been waiting for her to change her mind, Volstagg said, "I will flag you a taxi."

She fumbled for her phone, nearly dropping it, and texted his number, " _I changed my mind. I want to help_."

There was no reply. Damn it, was he ignoring her, or did he just not notice the message? 

Outside the restaurant, she waited with Volstagg. She wasn't surprised when he refused her offer to pay, saying that Loki had taken care of it, but she was surprised, when he offered her some advice, "We say the Jotunn are a cold people, like their fjords, often very beautiful, but chill to the touch. But I think when the snow melts, it can be very rewarding for the one who has patience."

That wasn't exactly tricky to figure out. "Why, you're quite a poet." She smiled at him. "And a big pile of romanticism, aren't you?"

"He has never brought a woman to the restaurant before," Volstagg told her, then frowned, reconsidering, "Well, except for Doctor Foster and Miss Lewis. And Ms Pepper, of course.."

Sif laughed. "Just stop while you're ahead." In a way, she wished what Volstagg meant was true, but the cool way he had played her, suggested he'd brought her to the restaurant, not for any romantic notions of sharing his culture, but for the practical reason of surrounding her with people favorable to him, for protection. But it was irrelevant whether he cared or not. He might like her and think far better of her than he should, but that wasn't the same as caring. Just like her not wanting him to get himself killed, wasn't the same as caring either. It was... friendly. At best.

She thanked Volstagg for his help and got in the taxi. Lacking any response to her phone calls, she told the driver, "Stark Tower."

Hopefully she could catch him there, packing his stuff, before he left for the airport.

* * *

 

She didn't think of the problem of Stark Tower being closed until she got there. When she went up the steps to the main glass doors, they were all locked. Pressing her face to the glass she peered inside, looking for a security guard. The lobby seemed dim and empty.

"Oh, come on," she muttered. "There's got to be someone around. It's not _that_ late."

She knocked as loudly on the glass as she could, wishing she'd thought to get either Tony or Pepper's personal phone numbers at the party. Erik, maybe Erik was still staying in the Tower, she thought.

Pulling out her phone, she was about to call him, when movement inside proved to be building security. She knocked hard, to get his attention. He came closer to the window and shook his head in exaggerated refusal that he could not open the door. Various entreaties and pleading faces made no impact and he was turning away, when she texted furiously and then kicked the glass to get his attention.

Making the letters big, she slammed the face of the phone up against the glass. " _TELL STARK OR POTTS I NEED TALK. NOW_."

He read the message, frowned uncertainly, and she pointed to the phone with exaggerated urgency.

While he walked to the security station, hopefully to call upstairs, but just in case, he wasn't, she called Loki again, getting his voicemail. "It's Sif. I wanted you to know that I changed my mind. I want to help. I'm trying to get to you in person but the guard at the front of Stark Tower won't let me in. Just call me back, would you?"

She hung up and then made the call to Erik, and his voicemail picked up right away like his phone was off.

But after she'd left him a message hoping to get Stark's number, or maybe for him to call Loki and Loki would actually take his call, she heard something else. An English voice asked, " _Security informs me you wish to speak directly to Mister Stark or Ms Potts_?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed looking around, but could see nothing to address herself to. The voice seemed to be originating from a speaker somewhere overhead. "Well, actually I'm trying to reach Loki. But they know me, and they'll help me." She hoped they would help, though she wasn't that sure of it now that Tony knew the whole story. Maybe he'd want to protect his friend.

" _Prince Loki Laufeyson is not inside the building_."

Her shoulders slumped. "He's not there? I already missed him? Damn it. What-- do you know which airport he was going out? Maybe I can catch him..."

That was nearly impossible, she realized the next minute. Even if she knew all his flight information, it wasn't as if these were the grand old days where she could run after him all the way to the gate. No, she would get as far as security and have to stop. Besides, that was assuming he was flying commercial – for all she knew, he was flying a private plane or some military transport back and she'd never get near either of those.

What the hell had she been thinking? This was so incredibly stupid. She'd left her message, she'd let him know she was willing to help, and now the ball was in his court. She didn't need to race after him like she was in some stupid rom-com.

" _One moment_ ," the voice said. She waited, disappointed, wondering what the delay was for, but soon enough there was a click and the door in front of her slid open. " _Proceed directly to elevator 2 and take it to level 55_."

"Uh, thank you?" she said to the empty air and headed through the open door.

* * *

tbc...


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

 

On the 55th floor, the elevator doors opened to allow Sif to enter a vestibule with only one pair of smoked glass doors that slid apart in soundless invitation. Sif didn't get very far in the entry hall beyond the doors, enough to be able to tell that this was Tony Stark's private quarters-- all sleek and modern like the party room, but a bit warmer with wood accents and plants, before she heard Pepper's voice.

"Sif! Come in, it's so good to see you!" Unlike her usual corporate look, Pepper was more casual in a t-shirt and shorts, and her feet were bare as she headed across the marble tile to welcome her unexpected guest.

A more sardonic voice said from the left, "Oh yes, highlight of my day to meet the woman who was planning to murder my friend tonight." Tony wandered out, drink in hand, to give Sif a sour look.

"I wasn't!" Sif protested. "I was just... Grant was just going to scare him so I could try to stop it again. That's all. I wasn't going to hurt him."

"This time." He pointed at her like he thought he was winning something.

"Look, you don't have to tell me it was wrong to take the contract. I wanted money, that's all it was about. Because some of us were born in a trailer park, not a mansion, and didn't have the money to get ourselves out of trouble, just got into it deeper."

He snorted, unimpressed. "Lots of people born into worse than you didn't turn into _assassins_."

She stared at him, incensed and also confused. Hadn't he been on her side? Or at least Loki's side and _he_ had believed in her. "I saved his life, okay? I didn't do it. And I gave you Romanova, so don't pretend like I'm all evil incarnate; I helped you."

"Yes, you're a peach."

"Tony, enough," Pepper chided. "She told Jarvis she wanted to talk to us, and I don't think getting yelled at was part of it."

"Yelled at?" Tony repeated. "I'm not yelling. You want to see yelling? Just because you kill people for a living--"

Sif put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Excuse me, Mister President of Stark Industries, designer of the AT-2200 anti-tank gun, and the ARC missile, and a thousand of other weapons? Where the hell do you get off judging me? At least I never hurt any innocent people, just thugs and criminals and warlords." Her conscience reminded her that wasn't exactly true, but she told it to be quiet. She was making a point. "I'm not going to claim the world's a better place because of what I did because hell if I know, but I can sure say that between you, me, and Loki, the only one who really is trying to make the world a better place is _him_. And he's about to run right into Arkady Thanos' compound because he thinks he's smarter than everyone else, and he's going to get himself killed. He asked me to give him intel on Thanos, and I was scared and I said no, but I changed my mind. Because he needs all the help he can get."

After all that came out of her mouth, she let out a gusty breath and lifted her chin. "So that... is what I wanted to say."

Tony and Pepper exchanged a look, Tony giving a bit of a shrug like it was Pepper's decision what to do. At least he wasn't angry about Sif's accusations, which in hindsight had probably not been her best choice of tactics when she wanted his help.

"You mean that?" Pepper asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"Yeah. I do. Look, I know he's not here; the guy who answered the door told me. So I don't know what I'm trying to accomplish," Sif admitted with a weary shrug. "He won't answer my calls, so he wants nothing to do with me. Even if he did, I can't chase him down and go after him."

They exchanged another look, and Tony asked, "Would you?"

"If I knew what airport and airline, maybe." She glanced at the high windows thinking of the other night when she'd tried to save him from the mercs. Then she'd seen him all bandaged up, after getting shot in the back. Thanos could do worse on his home turf, if Loki was reckless enough to go after him and was caught.

"Well, actually, he's taking my plane out of Teterboro," Tony said. "So then my question is, do you want to catch him before he leaves?"

Her mouth opened, wanting to say yes, but her voice wouldn't come out at first. "I-- is there any point to it?" she countered. "You know him better than I do. Does he have any interest in me now that he's done his big reveal and ended the game he was playing with me?"

"What is this, high school?" he retorted, rolling his eyes. "You want to know if he _likes_ you?"

Her cheeks went hot, and she glanced at the floor, embarrassed. "No! I just want to know--"

"Yes," Pepper interjected firmly. "The answer is yes, you should go after him."

The bright warmth that formed in her chest at the words was like a miracle, making her doubts dissolve away to nothing. Pepper wouldn't say that, if she didn't believe it herself.

But then reality struck. "But Teterboro, that's across the river. Do you think a cab will make it in time? Can you call me a cab, I'll go downstairs and--"

Tony made a show of checking his watch-- which he wasn't even wearing. "You'll never make it in a cab." He turned his head to regard Pepper. "You think so? Really? You were the one that hated the plan."

"I hated _his_ plan; like Sif said, it was a game to you both. And I hate the way you enable each other to be idiots," Pepper corrected. "But I don't hate this plan."

"What plan?" Sif demanded. They were talking around something and she didn't understand.

They didn't explain either. "Fine, come with me." Tony headed for a staircase that went downward to a lower level. "Pepper, call it in."

"Wait, where are we going? Are you taking me to the train?" Sif asked, still confused.

"You want to catch him before the plane takes off? Follow me."

She turned back to give a confused, helpless look to Pepper, who smiled and raised a hand to wave her fingers in farewell.

Sif followed Tony down the stairs that wound their way through glass and mirrors to another level of what looked like some sound-proofed work areas behind glass, filled with equipment and computers. Was he going to show her some new experiment? Some way to get her to New Jersey quickly? A way to contact the plane or override Loki's phone?

But they kept going, finding another staircase. "This is taking forever. Where are we going?" she demanded impatiently.

"You'll recognize it," he promised, and a moment later she did, as he waved at a sensor beside the door, it turned green, and when he opened it, she saw the room where the party had been.

Wind whipped at them through the still-broken windows, though all the broken glass and damaged furniture had been removed. There was only a half-hearted wooden bar and some shredded plastic put across the gaping hole. "You didn't board it up? That's not very safe."

"It's fine, no one comes here. I didn't want strangers in the upper tower to fix it, while he was here," Tony answered with a shrug. She smiled; he was so casual about it, but it was like the press conference. He was pretty fierce in Loki's defense.

"He's a good friend, isn't he?" she asked.

"Yeah. Us boys born in mansions have to stick together." He didn't say it to her face, but she winced. Yep, he'd noticed.

"Sorry."

He waved it away like it didn't matter. She followed him past the long bar to the doors out to the helipad. Helicopter. That was how she was going to catch the plane. Except there was no chopper there.

"Can you call the plane and have it wait?" she asked him.

He glanced at her, lifting his brows. "I know it's my plane, but those bodyguards of his are special forces. They'll throw my pilot through the door and fly the plane themselves. If he wants to leave."

"You have Loki's number, you can call him. He'll probably take your call."

Tony grinned at her. "Wouldn't you rather it be a surprise?"

"Uh, not if Grundroth is going to shoot at me."

"For an assassin you don't have much sense of adventure," he mocked her, and for a moment she was tempted to shove him out that broken window.

"I have plenty!" But she heard a helicopter on approach, and though she tensed at the thought it might be unfriendly, Tony didn't seem worried. So she tried to relax, even though she couldn't help watching it closely and decided to fling herself behind the bar if something went wrong.

"Sif, wait!" Pepper called, and Sif turned to see Pepper hurry in behind them, carrying a travel bag. Sif went to meet her.

"This is for you," Pepper held out the bag, her voice a little breathless. She'd hurried to get to Sif. "It's my short-notice travel bag. Has some toiletry essentials, change of clothes, that's sort of thing."

"Thank you." Sif took it automatically when Pepper shoved it at her, but she was a bit confused. "But I'm not going _with_ him."

"Of course you are," Pepper said and smiled at her. "Have fun."

"But – But I don't have my passport."

"I'll get it and FedEx it to you! You'll be with Loki, it's all right! Go on."

Before Sif could figure out if this was what she wanted to do or why she was doing this, or why Pepper thought she was going with him to Jotunheim, or have second thoughts at all, Sif was hustled onto the helicopter. Tony sat beside her, and in a minute, they were flying above Manhattan.

It was incredible. She'd flown into JFK which was similar, but to fly above it so close to the city lights was beautiful. Pressing her face to the window, she watched the city below and the sparser lights of the river, as they headed to New Jersey.

She could hear Tony shouting instructions to the pilot about going to Teterboro and where to land, but she didn't pay much attention, clasping Pepper's travel case on her lap.

They swooped over the Jersey shore heading inland, and Sif could see the lights of the small runway, as they started their descent. There was an argument with the control tower, ended by Tony seizing the radio and yelling at them that he was going to his plane and they could just hold the take-off until he was aboard.

That made Sif's heart tight that they were going to miss the plane.

The helicopter didn't land on the obvious helipad, but down the way, in front of a private plane marked with the Stark Industries logo on the tail.

The blades hadn't even stopped, when Tony shoved open the door. "Come on!"

Together they ducked underneath the man-made whirlwind and headed for the plane. The staircase was still there and the door was open, one bodyguard at the bottom of the ramp and a second at the hatch with his weapon drawn, in his hand at his side almost out of sight.

But they both recognized Tony and her, and stood aside to let them board. "Don't shut it," Tony ordered as he pounded up the stairs. "I'm not staying." Then he burst into the cabin. "Loki! I have another passenger for you!"

The reaction was lacking what Sif hoped, since Loki was talking fairly loudly to himself, frowning at some papers he had on the table in front of him and didn't even notice at first. But then he looked up, frowning more intensely to see Tony. "Tony, what are you doing here?" But his gaze lifted a little more to spy Sif hovering at the hatch and his lips parted in shock, before he managed to spit out her name in disbelief, "Sif?"

She grinned, feeling profoundly stupid and awkward. What the hell had she been thinking? "Uh, hi? I tried to call you..." She waved vaguely at the phone she could see plugged into the little shelf that ran the length of the plane's outer wall.

" _Is that Sif_?" Jane's voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of the well at which point Sif realized Loki hadn't been talking to himself, but to her, on the speakerphone.

He lifted the cell and looked at the face. "Oh. So you did." Sif felt better that he had not noticed her call, not that he'd been ignoring her. He said into the phone. "Yes, Sif's here. I will call you back."

Jane chuckled. " _You don't need to. We'll fix the instability while you're gone, don't worry. Have a good speech. Erik says hi, Sif. Thank you for being there with him. Good night_."

Loki ended the call and looked at Sif again, his expression gone neutral. "You appear to have gone through some effort to catch me."

Sif swallowed hard and nodded, moving around Tony. "Yes, right. I tried to call to tell you I changed my mind," she said. "I want to help. With Thanos." Realizing her hands were clutching the handle of Pepper's bag like a lifeline, she made herself relax her grip, lowering the bag in one hand. "If my help can save lives, I'd rather do that. Plus, I don't think I'm safe until he's dead, since he'll likely blame me for the attack anyway, even if I don't help. So, I should help and make sure. And also, I have this suspicion that you're going to go, no matter how many people tell you it's dumb, and since I spent all this effort trying to keep you alive before this, I shouldn't give up now."

Tony snorted. "She has a point. Plus, we were right about her, even Pepper sees it now."

Loki's gaze flicked to him. "Pepper agrees? Well, all right then. Do you want to come with me, Sif?"

She drew a deep breath. "If you'll have me. And if I can help."

"Good. Then I'm glad to have you." His tone was polite but there was a warmth in his eyes and the pleased smile that was now hovering on his lips suggested he meant it. He gestured to the seat on the other side of his table. "Please, join me."

She hadn't sat down before Grundroth came down the aisle to object, and she was sure some of it had something to do with the king, given the way Loki's eyes narrowed and he returned something sharp and annoyed, gesturing to the plane as a whole as if to say he was going along with the recall so what else could the king expect?

Grundroth turned around and glared at her, like this stubbornness was her fault, and retreated aft.

"Hey, then, I should go back, and take my chopper out of your way," Tony offered. "You have a good flight and break a leg on your speech."

"I will." They lifted hands to each other in goodbye, and Tony made the 'call me' gesture to Loki before he ducked out the hatch. Once he was gone, the guards and a woman in a navy suit tended to the hatch, shutting it and checking it.

Sif took the seat across the table from Loki and reflexively found the seat belt to put it on. The seat was nice and broad, all cream leather and plenty of cushion, with a control panel in the wide armrest that managed the footstool and could lean the chair back.

The plane was small with a pair of chairs on one side, a central aisle, and a couch on the other side, overhead compartments and an entertainment system at the front in the wall that blocked them from seeing the control cabin. Aft of the door were a few more seats, the lavatory, and the small galley space.

The aft seats spoiled the wealthy corporate jet image, having been taken over by the four guards with their military equipment on the table and they spoke to each other quietly in that Jotnar she couldn't understand, probably complaining about the surprise American assassin their boss had a weird obsession with.

As she turned to face Loki again, she had never been more aware that she was going to a strange place with people she hardly knew, for a reason that had seemed good ten minutes ago and now felt ridiculous. Traveling to Jotunheim, with Loki, on Tony Stark's private plane? What the hell was she even doing?

The attendant came to introduce herself and get Sif's drink order before takeoff. Then, speaking to Loki, she reported, "Sir, Captain Riva is about to file our flightplan and wants your approval to stop for refueling in Aberdeen, Scotland. Utgard's in range but he'd prefer a little more cushion."

"That's fine," he said. "New arrival time?"

"Around one pm, local time."

He grimaced but decided there was no point complaining. "Tell Grundroth to send the news forward. And let's go whenever we're ready."

"Yes, sir."

She moved away and he sipped at the coffee in his porcelain cup, leaning back. "Tesseract power will stop the need to refuel, but can't do anything about time zones." He sighed. "Hopefully you sleep on airplanes?"

"Not usually, but probably on this one." She stroked the soft leather of the armrest. "It's very comfortable."

Loki looked around as if he hadn't noticed the interior. "Tony does like nice things. So make yourself at home. We have at least eight hours of being stuck inside this flying snail, so drink, eat, sleep, watch whatever Tony has in the system." He waved a hand toward the screen. "I'm going to work for a little while." He rubbed at his forehead, stress wrinkling in the corners of his eyes, and she thought he probably needed sleep, more than he needed work or coffee, but he probably wouldn't appreciate the advice.

"I'm sorry if I'm making things more difficult for you. Just pretend I'm not here," she offered.

Those blue eyes found hers and he smiled. "I could never do that," he murmured, surprising her with how earnest he seemed. "I'm glad you're here and you're coming with me. And I promise it won't be all boring work."

"Will there be dancing?" she asked, teasing.

His voice was a warm purr that sent a shiver down her back. "Definitely."

She shook her head, ruefully amused that she was here at all. "Grundroth is blaming me for making you reckless, but honestly, I've never done anything this ridiculously _impetuous_ before I met you."

His grin was almost wicked in delight. "How exciting to be a bad influence! I'm usually quite dull."

Thinking back to what Volstagg had told her of Loki's youthful exploits, she doubted that, a lot. But the attendant came back with her drink and to make sure they were both belted in, taking Sif's case to stow it.

"Are you ready?" Loki asked her as the plane started to trundle to position on the tarmac.

She shrugged. "Guess so. Too late to back out, anyway."

He held his coffee cup out to her, so they could toast. "To the beginning of a new adventure."

"Together," she added and clinked her glass to his cup.

They were leaning in, over the table, and his eyes held hers. She had the wild thought that it would take only a little more-- she could release her belt to get closer. Her gaze dropped to his lips, wanting to touch... It would be so easy.

But the announcement that they were cleared for take-off broke the moment and she leaned back, disappointed but relieved, too. This was not the time; she wasn't sure if there would ever be a right time. It wasn't that he was a somebody and she was a nobody; the problem was that she was a somebody to all the wrong people.

Instead of getting involved, it was better to be helpful and hope that Loki could do what he promised and get her name off Interpol's list, and then they would go their separate ways. Things were changing. She was heading for a new country, for a new future, but one she hoped was better than the past.

When the plane took off, Sif tilted her head to look out the porthole window, watching as the city lights spread out below and turned dark as the plane headed out over the water.

She fell asleep, lured by the whine of the engines and voices murmuring in a language she didn't try to understand.

* * *

tbc... 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's back! As I sort of promised/threatened, it shifts gears for this chapter to Loki's POV, now that it's not a secret that he knows what she's up to. :) 
> 
> also, yes, Jotunheim and Utgard are basically just Norway and Oslo with new names and a different royal family. Sorry Norway.
> 
> Hope you're all still aboard and you enjoy!

* * *

 

 

After thirty minutes of aimless scribbling that turned into geometric doodles, Loki decided trying to work was useless and shoved his notes in a folder. His brain had turned to mush, probably the moment Sif had appeared at the door of the airplane.

His eyes lifted to see her in the opposite chair. She was asleep, her head to one side, lips parted a little. A lock of dark hair curled at the base of her throat, and her feet were bare.

His fingers curled around his phone, intending to take her photo, but that seemed too weird. He would just have to remember.

He was never going to admit it aloud, but at least to himself he could acknowledge that this had all started because he'd looked at the video of her walking away from Barton and he'd wanted to know her. Not because she had the most beautiful face he'd ever seen, though that certainly had been part of it, but it was more than that; she was intriguing. Then the more people had told him that her attractiveness was _all_ he was seeing, the more he had dug in his heels and known there was more. He'd had to understand why someone who looked like she could snap her fingers and get whatever she wanted had fallen in with bad people and yet she'd stopped Barton from murdering him. There had to be more to her than cold-blooded killer.

That she was there, curled up in the leather passenger seat, proved he was right. There was some satisfaction to knowing he'd been right about her from the start; it had taken a bit for her to figure it out for herself, but she'd never really been on the side of the devils.

His back twinged, reminding him that the price of being wrong was high, and his father was likely to concentrate on that part. Nor was he likely to be pleased that Loki was bringing Sif home with him, when he found out.

Looking at the phone screen, he wondered if he could get away with texting his father the news.

Or, he could be a total coward and wait. Grundroth had no doubt already passed word that Sif had joined them on the plane, despite Grundroth's strong advisement against it, and someone would tell the king. His father would call him, and Loki could avoid answering by being asleep, and then by the time the plane landed, Laufey's anger would have burned out. Hopefully. Laufey was not exactly known for his calm.

The indicator blinked to remind him of a voicemail but since he knew it was Sif's, he dialed in to listen to the message, while he watched her sleep. At the end, he saved the message, swallowed two of the pain pills, put his chair back and imagined dancing with her to put himself to sleep.

* * *

 

He stirred when someone tucked the table away and laid a blanket over him, but when they landed in Scotland, the bump jarred him awake. He tried to go back to sleep during taxi and engine turnoff, but all the banging around and hatch opening made the thought of sleeping evaporate completely.

He intended to get up to find the lavatory, but when he moved the seat upright again, his lower back seized up into a knot of pain, wrenching a soft groan out of him. Hissing his breath through his teeth, he stayed still, clutching the leather arm rests and hoping it eased.

Margud, the only woman of his security detail, heard him and came to ask quietly, aware of Sif still sleeping in the opposite chair, "Sir? Are you all right?"

He forced himself to unclench one hand and hold it out. "Would you help me out of the chair? My back is cramped." Her grip was strong as she seized his forearm and pulled, while he pushed himself up with his other hand.

He nearly fell right onto Sif, if not for Margud's arm, as he staggered a step, back not loosening. Then as she followed closely, he lurched gracelessly aft with his hand pressed to his lower back. The wound itself was nearly healed; it was the bruising that was still bothering him.

The security detail was all awake, and Grundroth was outside the plane to watch it fueling. Vornir saw them heading down the aisle and stood up, frowning in concern. "Sir?"

"My back is cramped up. It'll be all right. Is there coffee?" he asked, scrubbing his face with one hand as he looked out the open door to the sun in the east.

"Yes, sir. I'll bring it to you."

He tried to demur, to get it himself, but Vornir acted like he didn't hear, leaving Loki at the doorway, looking out at the expanse of blue sky and grey clouds and the length of the airfield out to distant green hills. He put his hands to the small of his back and stretched gingerly. "Jesus. I cannot wait for a real bed."

He accepted the mug and stood on the top of the stairs outside the plane, letting the bracing fresh air and morning sun help perk him awake, while the pain eased to a dull ache.

He got his own refill and headed back to get his phone to check it, standing up. Eventually standing would also be painful, but for now it was better than sitting down.

"Are we there?" Sif asked blearily, stirring. The start when she saw his empty seat and her panicked looking around for him was charming. Then her eyes found him, and she smiled, pleased to see him.

"Good morning. We're in Scotland," he told her.

She frowned at him, her hair looking rather adorably mussed. "Did you sleep? You look disgustingly awake."

"I did. But we have another hour or so, you can sleep more if you want."

She shook her head, giving up on that idea, and stood up in the aisle with him, stretching and rolling her head until her neck cracked. "Sorry. So, they didn't want my passport?"

"Apparently they didn't even want mine. It's a refueling layover so they don't seem to care." He nodded his chin aft. "Lavatory and coffee in the back, if you want to take advantage. We should be taking off again soon."

Barefoot, she walked aft, and his gaze followed her, drawn to her hips and her long legs in that snug black skirt.

Right, because he needed to be thinking about that, when he still had a speech to write, a father to convince of his plan, and get back to his science. He had no time to court a woman at all, especially one who could never be more than a dalliance.

But, what if she could? What would he have to do to make that possible?

Seized with the sudden curiosity, he texted Tony: _I can clear Sif from Interpol, but that doesn't make her past palatable to some people._

Tony answered so quickly he must've been on top of his phone: _You mean everyone not you?_

Loki chuckled and replied: _yes probly incl dad. What can we do to make Sif's past go away?_

Tony answered: _We're way ahead of you. Step one in the package with her passport_.

Loki shook his head in admiration, disbelief, and gratitude that both Tony and Pepper were his friends. He texted back emoji hearts and slipped the phone back in his pocket.

* * *

He had the pilot fly in from the west coast instead of the more usual sea arrival to Utgard, theoretically to show Sif, but found himself pressed to his own window to watch.

The west coast was a ragged bunch of islands and fjords, and there was literally no place on Earth he thought more beautiful. The sight filled his heart with longing to sail that coast again, as he and Thor had done that summer a few years ago, taking themselves and a small boat on an adventure that had made both their fathers extremely nervous. The coast guard had kept an eye on them the entire time, but Loki hadn't known that until afterward. They'd done their ancestors proud on that trip.

The plane flew over the land then, different and yet equally beautiful. Loki let out a slow breath, relaxing his shoulders, feeling something unknot in his chest at the familiar mountains and valleys beneath, as they started their descent.

"It's home to you," Sif murmured. "You love it. I guess you have to, it's kind of your job, but you really do."

Startled he looked to her, and found her smiling at him. He cleared his throat and explained, "I'm usually too busy to miss it when I'm away, but when I come home, I realize how glad I am to be back."

Her smile grew and her eyes seemed soft. "I wish I loved a place like that," she murmured.

Feeling uncomfortable under her sympathetic regard, he chuckled. "Well, like you said, it's part of the job description. Love of country, and all of that." He waved a hand in vague dismissal. "We'll be landing soon."

* * *

At the new airport, he enjoyed watching Sif admire the terminal building in all its wood and glass. He shared trivia about its construction until she rolled her eyes. "You didn't have to look it up to impress me."

Oh, that was too much. "I didn't!" he protested. "I had to give the opening speech. So I remembered. If you don't want to know, you could have said so."

"Just teasing," she said soothingly, but her lips were still curled in smirk at his reaction.

He didn't quite pout, as he looked out the window, at least not until he realized, the plane was getting farther from the building, heading across the tarmac of the taxiway toward the smaller cargo hangars, instead of pulling up to a gate.

His good mood evaporated and he sighed. Security was so tight he couldn't walk through the airport but had to be shuffled off into a car. In his own damn country. This was intolerable.

There were two white Volvo SUV's waiting, and they pulled closer to the stairway as the plane's engines slowed their whine. There was no flag on the cars, so at least his father hadn't come to meet him.

He checked his phone again, uneasy that there was still no message. That meant Laufey was saving it up to harangue Loki in person.

_And then you wonder, Father, why I built the tesseract prototype in America?_

He grimaced and put the phone away again.

Sif touched his arm as she stood. "Everything all right?"

He forced a smile. "Yes. I am glad to be home, I only wish it were under less... secure circumstances." He waved a hand at the waiting cars.

"Well, you did make an enemy of one of the most powerful, terrible people on Earth," she reminded him. How were her eyes so bright? She'd removed most of her eye makeup that had gotten smudged, but it didn't seem to matter. There was so much green in her eyes... He had to force himself to look away.

"That I did. Shall we?" he gestured her to precede him.

He thanked the two pilots and the attendant for their care and went to the car Grundroth was waiting beside. He let Sif in first and paused to ask Grundroth, "Really? I can't even walk through the terminal?"

Grundroth shook his head. "No. Not today, sir."

"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, peering suspiciously at Grundroth. "Is there another threat?"

"Thanos is still a threat. Not all of those he sends after you will change sides because you bat your eyelashes at them," Grundroth teased.

"Oh, I did not!" Loki made an affronted face of parted lips and wide eyes, then chuckled and gave in. "Fine, point taken."

Grundroth indicated the door. "If you would, we are to go to the palace."

Loki knew he wasn't getting the whole story, and resolved to worm it out of someone later. He was really not okay with keeping things from him. But now was not the time. "We need to drive past the front so I can show it to Sif properly."

Grundroth glanced at Sif, who was already inside the car, and then his eyes met Loki's and they both smiled with a slightly wicked anticipation. "That we can do."

* * *

The car pulled over to the side of the street, parallel to the knobs that prevented cars from driving up, to give Sif an unobstructed view to the yellow and white building on the top of its rise, overlooking the park.

Her eyes wide wide and one hand clutched the handle of the door. "Oh. My. God."

Loki chuckled as she stared at the palace.

"Oh my God," she repeated. "Y'know, I saw a picture of it. I thought I was prepared. I am _not_ fucking prepared. That's your _house_!"

"Not really _my_ house," he demurred.

She side-eyed him, not buying that, and she turned back to the palace. "It's a copy of the Russian Winter Palace isn't it?"

"It's neo-classical, but it's not _that_ big," he protested.

She chortled at successfully needling him. "Uh huh, it's such a _cottage_. A cottage with a driveway for horse-drawn carriages and a bronze statue of some ancestor out front. So do we get out and walk up?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. We go in the back. I hardly ever use the front, only for state events."

She shook her head, amazed. "I can't imagine living in a place where you don't use the front door because it's too formal. That's ridiculous," she complained, still jibing him, but he sat back, smug that she'd been impressed despite herself.

The car drove around the park that surrounded the palace to get to the back. The driver showed his pass to the guard wearing his old-fashioned green and black uniform with the black-fur hat in his little guard hut. He came to fierce attention and saluted at the recognition that Loki was in the car.

The trees were old and cast their shade over the lane, with ponds and flower gardens visible on walking paths. But the car didn't stop, heading to the bulk of the palace; here it was higher security with another fence closer to the palace itself and more guard posts. But all Loki could think about was how it wouldn't stop anyone who was determined to get in. He knew there were more defenses than it appeared, but it all seemed very open and dangerous.

And he _hated_ that someone had made him feel unsafe in his home.

The guards came to attention as the car pulled to a halt. Grundroth and Margud opened the doors for Loki and Sif and they all headed inside.

Nothing had changed of course. The back entry lacked the high grandeur of the hall in the front, being far more functional and not particularly home-like on this level with security offices behind some of the doors. Yet Loki realized, after a glance at Sif, that it was not the plain hall he held in his memory, with granite floors and walls half-paneled in pine to lend warmth, and brass chandeliers hanging with their faux candles. 

Loki greeted the staff, chatting with those he remembered, putting off the inevitable, and finally decided to stop being a stupid teenager and ask after his father. He might as well get it over with.

He made sure everyone knew Sif was a guest, and then went upstairs to the seashell sitting room.

It was called that because the plaster in the ceiling had been formed into delicate sea shells, and the décor was all white and sea green, including the Victorian-era furniture that fortunately the Nazis hadn't stolen, even if they'd looted the obvious treasures. This was one of the rooms on the tour, so not one the family used in the summer usually, but Loki had fond memories of sitting in the window seat to read or look at the park in all its wintry splendor.

His father was standing by that same window, wearing a charcoal suit, and his hands tucked behind his back. He turned as the door opened and Loki came in.

Laufey was a tall man, taller than Loki, and had a rather severe cast to his features when he didn't smile. His hair had once been the same black as Loki's, but was now heavily silvered and worn short and bristly.

For a moment they regarded each other and Loki waited, swallowing and keeping his eyes up. Finally, heart twisting in anxiety when Laufey didn't say anything, he dug up a smile and stated the obvious, "Father, I'm home."

In a few swift strides, Laufey was there, and his arms flung around Loki, roughly pulling him to his chest. "Thank God, you're all right, thank God," he murmured into Loki's hair.

Loki was at first taken by such surprise, he could only stand there. He'd expected Laufey to shout at him for carelessness and stupidity and bringing Sif on the plane, but instead, Laufey did none of that, only embraced Loki tightly. His relief made Loki feel guilty that he'd been so cavalier. It wasn't that he didn't think his father cared, he knew Laufey cared for him, but he hadn't expected him to be quite so openly upset.

He hugged him back. "I'm okay, Father," he reassured him.

"You were hurt! They shot you!" Laufey said and his hand gripped Loki's jacket, shaking him a little. His voice softened, barely audible into Loki's shoulder. "I almost lost you."

"I'm sorry I worried you. And I'm sorry my project has been so much trouble," he offered.

Laufey straightened and he tugged Loki's lapel sharply, looking into his eyes. "No. Do not apologize for your science. It's your work. And I like that it's important enough to make trouble." There was a bit of familiar mischief in the king's eyes before his expression softened, and his hand touched Loki's hair and then his cheek, patting it lightly, before falling back to his shoulder. "But I also want you to be safe. And not take foolish risks. Try to remember your father, sitting at home, fearing every phone call will be bad news." He shook Loki's shoulder again, trying to get his point across.

Loki nodded, biting his lip with more understanding on how hard this was on his father. "I'm sorry, Papa," he murmured. "I'll be more careful."

"Good." Laufey kissed him on the forehead. "You are the only treasure I care about. Keep yourself safe."

Feeling his lower lip quiver, Loki blinked back sudden tears, as his heart seemed tight. His mother had called him 'her treasure' and to hear it again, in these circumstances... He could only manage a nod, not actual words. Laufey let the moment linger, cupping the back of Loki's neck in his hand, but then he smiled and drew some of Loki's hair through his fingers. "Do they not cut hair in America, my son?"

Glad for the mood lightening, Loki was going to jest about how he was being fashionable, but Laufey's eyes went over Loki's shoulder. His grip tightened before he dropped his hand, and he stiffened back to the bearing of the king, not Loki's father. Loki knew someone was interrupting that Laufey didn't want to see.

Loki glanced behind and saw Sif waiting in the doorway.

 

* * *

tbc... 

 


	10. Chapter 10

It was amazing to Sif how, on the one hand, looking up the drive at the palace of Jotunheim felt the same as the time she’d stood outside the enormous plantation house of one of the girls in her class to attend a party, aware of her cheap dress and her own apartment by the tracks. It was a feeling of looking at something so far out of her league it might as well be another planet that twisted under her ribs. 

Yet, at the same time, she felt a little gleeful satisfaction because that girl wasn’t here. Despite her snobbery, despite how hatefully she’d behaved, Genevieve was not the one sitting next to a prince.

When Sif entered the royal palace, she smiled to herself with no little vindictiveness, hoping Genevieve was saddled with three kids and a husband who’d gambled away all their money.

“Miss? the King wished to speak with you after he has greeted Prince Loki,” a tall, polite blonde woman with eyes like a Husky dog told her. “If you would come this way, please?”

“Of course.” Aware of the two guards following her, Sif made no sudden movements as she followed the woman. They were suspicious and careful of her, as they should be, and Sif wanted to be as cooperative as possible. 

The bottom floor appeared to be administrative and security offices, nothing particularly special, but once they climbed a flight of stairs, the hall beyond was beautiful. Not as overwrought in gilt or splendor as Sif had expected, more simple but elegant with carved wood touches, a thick carpet runner over the marble floor, and paintings hanging on white walls. 

The attendant brought Sif to open double doors, and she could glimpse the room beyond, flooded with light from the windows on the far side. Within, she saw Loki and his father embracing, and she looked away from the private moment.

The attendant reached for the door, intending to shut it, but the king looked up from Loki’s shoulder and saw them there. 

Eyes like Loki’s but more deep-set in a face of sharp planes and angles - fixed on her and she took a step forward in reflex now that she’d been seen.

The attendant moved into the room ahead of her. “Your Majesty, may I present Sif Rowan.”

Feeling extremely unprepared for this encounter, Sif froze and then remembering her dance lessons, made a little curtsy, looking down. “I, um, am honored. Your Majesty.” She fought the urge to mumble then wondered if she was supposed to speak at all. What if he was supposed to speak first? 

But protocol was not King Laufey’s problem with her, as he approached a few measured strides and looked at her. He was impressively tall, even when she was standing upright. "You are the assassin who was planning to kill my son?" he asked in English, quite severely.

Sif opened her mouth to protest, shut it again, and nodded tightly. "I was. But not anymore." Then added belatedly, "Sir." 

"And your intention in coming here? To Jotunheim?" 

She tried to fold her hands together in front of her, without clutching them, and answer in a steady voice, "I've been to Thanos' compound. I know how it's laid out, the people there. I was going to tell Loki and Grundroth and whoever's actually going to do the operation what I know. So they maybe have a chance to succeed." 

While the king pondered, Loki moved up. "Father, all she's done to me is save my life." 

“And how do you know that, Loki?” Laufey demanded. “Perhaps this is a scheme! And even if it is not, you have brought this woman who admits that she had intention to murder you, here, inside our ancestral home!” 

“She’s not dangerous, at least not to us!” Loki protested. “She’s here to help, Father. She threw herself at me to save me from the Chitauri, she stopped Barton and Romanova--” 

“She is a felon, Loki. She deserves to be in _prison_ , not here as my guest.” 

“She’s not your guest, she’s mine,” Loki retorted. 

Watching them argue was causing her pain after seeing them hug, and she couldn’t help interrupting, “Please! I - I’ll go somewhere else. If you want to put me in jail, I accept that.” 

“No! That is _not_ acceptable!” Loki insisted.

She smiled at him, a little rueful twist of her lips. “Loki, he’s right. I-- I have done bad things.” She lifted her head to address the king again, holding tight to her courage. “But I came here to help you against Thanos. And I will do that, whatever you choose to do.”

The king snorted. “You came here because you want in my son’s bed,” he accused flatly.

“No!” she protested. “I mean I’m not saying he’s bad looking,” she added hastily, realizing the denial could be insulting, “but I don’t want him in that way. I just want him _safe_. And me safe, too,” she added with a hollow laugh.

Loki glanced at her and then away, mouth tightening.

Laufey’s baleful look softened somewhat as he examined her face. “What made you change your mind?”

“Because... “ she hesitated, knowing what she was about to say might make Loki reverse his support of her when he heard what sort of person she truly was and what she did. “Last year, something happened.” She glanced aside and touched her tongue to her dry lips, as her voice sank to confess, “There was a boy, maybe eight years old. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He died because of me. And I knew all my high ideals of killing the bad ones were pathetic, wishful thinking. That innocent little boy was dead, and it was my fault. I had to get out. So I was going to take one more job, a high enough profile contract to start a new life. Thanos told me Loki was a… parasite, living this lavish lifestyle on wealth stolen from your people, and,” she swallowed hard and couldn’t look at either of them, “that he had a thing for hurting prostitutes and had forced one of them to abort his baby.”

“What?” Loki blurted, sounded horrified. “I never--!” 

She glanced at him, meaning reassurance. “I know. I know they were lies. But that’s the sort of man Thanos is; he knew my standards, and he thought nothing of telling me what I wanted to hear to convince me you were awful. And even after I knew better, it was easy to convince myself there had to be some kind of truth to it, so I was planning to do it anyway. But in Stuttgart, I heard about the tesseract and I realized Loki was trying to do something good for the world, and I couldn’t do it. That is the truth, I swear. And if you-- if you want to arrest me, there’s nothing I can do to stop you, but please let me help you take Thanos down,” she said to Laufey, meaning every word. "He's an evil man, and he needs to be gone. Or none of us are safe."

Laufey listened to her story, not revealing what he thought of it, and at the end said, “I should have you arrested. Make no mistake, I do not trust you. But… my son granted you guest right and I will not be without manners and deny it. For now.” 

“Thank you. Your Highness. I promise you won’t regret it,” she said earnestly.

He grunted, “I pray that is true.” He looked to Loki. “We must prepare. We depart in two hours.”

Loki followed his father, promising Sif, “I’ll see you soon.” They left through the farther doors to another elegant room.

That left Sif there, feeling queasy that she’d revealed all of that and despite all of the truth, the king hadn’t ordered her dragged away in handcuffs to be thrown in the dungeon. Of course, being Jotunheim, it was probably a very clean dungeon with plenty of light and a little garden.

“Ms Rowan?” a voice asked behind her, and she turned to see the assistant was still there. “My name is Nadine Seyversen. I have command of the house. Now that His Majesty has confirmed you are to stay, you have a room for your visit. I am to take you."

“Really? I could wait somewhere out of the way, I don’t want to be any trouble…”

Nadine smiled. “It is well, Miss. You saved the Prince’s life. We are all grateful. The king too, though he must be king and not only a father.” 

Sif followed her to the western wing of the palace, where there were numerous doors standing shut. “Many bedrooms,” Nadine gestured down the hall. “For visitors.” She picked the nearest one and pushed open the door. “This one I had cleaned for you this morning, when we heard there would be a guest.”

Sif stepped inside, seeing that Pepper’s case was already placed on the vanity. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” The ceiling was high with a beautiful painting of flowers in the middle, and the walls were a bright lemon-yellow with long blue velvet drapes held open from the window to let in the sunlight. The canopied bed continued the blue and yellow color scheme, and there was a pair of tall white doors. 

“If there is anything you need, the telephone will connect you to the house operator,” Nadine said and gestured to the small telephone without any buttons on the bedside table. With a nod of her head, she excused herself so smoothly she was gone before Sif thought to say goodbye.

First exploring the connecting doors, she found a restroom nearly the same size as the bedroom with a window of its own, and the other a large closet that would fit more clothes than Sif had probably ever owned. There were towels and soaps laid out in welcome, and Sif shook her head in amazement that this was even happening. 

Opening Pepper’s case, she was sure someone so meticulous had not left everything askew, which meant someone had searched it. Sif was profoundly glad they hadn’t found anything, considering this was the first time Sif had looked inside. 

There was a change of clothes, including a white blouse, navy suit, and underwear, silk pajamas, and a separate case with toiletry items and makeup. She was grateful to see ordinary things like shampoo and a toothbrush so she didn't have to ask her hosts for any of it. 

Feeling more refreshed after a shower, she slipped back into her own black skirt and Pepper’s blouse that was a bit tight across the shoulders but otherwise wearable and without the plunging neckline of her own blouse, dried her hair, and used the mascara and lip gloss. Leaving her room, there was one of the uniformed guards waiting there, and he escorted her to a different room. This one was not as fancy as the first, and was empty as she entered. There was a beverage service on the side table, and she poured some water before checking out the room. The most interesting thing of what she’d call a sitting room, was that the mantel of the fireplace displayed numerous photographs. Some photos looked old, black and white of previous generations, but some were more modern. One large photo in the middle showed a blonde woman smiling at the camera, her hair all wind-blown and a beautiful fjord behind her, as she held a black-haired toddler in short pants in her arms. Loki and his mother, Sif thought, and smiled; he’d been a cute little boy. There were other photos of Loki’s mother on the mantel, but that one was clearly someone’s favorite.

"Ah Sif, there you are," she heard Loki's voice behind her, and she jumped, a guilty spike in her chest for looking at the photos.

Turning to see him, she froze and stared, and her heart beat seemed to echo in her ears. She had expected a suit for his appearance before the parliament; she had not expected him in the quasi-military look of the princely uniform. He wore slim-cut black trousers, and over that a coat in deep forest green, closed with tiny buttons all the way to the high collar, edged in black and gold braid at the epaulets and cuffs, with another arc of golden braid across his chest hanging from shoulder to shoulder. The coat was short across the front, but hung to long tails in back, cut away like a morning coat.

"That's, uh...." Her voice failed her as she looked at him. 

He gestured with both hands down his front and raised his eyebrows. "Silly?" he suggested. "Old-fashioned? I know. I won't be offended if you laugh." 

Knowing he didn't like the outfit helped her relax. "I'm not going to laugh," she reassured him.

"Really? Because I always feel like a circus monkey." He tugged the lower hem of the coat, as if wishing it were longer. 

"You're not. You look... like a prince." Then, trying to lighten things up, she teased, "Do you put on the tiara now?"

He snickered. "No, no tiara. Thank heaven." But his humor died as his gaze flicked to the photograph collection, reminders of a proud and ancient lineage. Sif was glad she didn't have that sort of legacy to worry about, watching his jaw clench and his thumb rub the back of his opposite hand. He said, sort of to her, but sort of no one also, "This is my first official address." He inhaled a deep breath and grimaced. "I might be sick." 

Her smile widened. "You spoke well at Stuttgart. You'll do fine." Then, more because her fingers wanted to touch it than it needed fixing, she smoothed the golden rope across his chest. "Nice bling." The fabric of the coat felt like soft wool under her fingers, but thick like felt. "Do you have the armor on?"

"Of course. It is a wonder I can breathe." 

Her hand tapped his chest. "A little discomfort is better than being dead."

His hand caught hers against his chest, cool fingers curling around hers. He'd slicked back his hair from his face, giving emphasis to his high forehead and the angles of his cheekbones, while the coat made his eyes very green as they met hers.

"I wanted to--" he said, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. He dropped her hand like she was on fire, as the door opened. 

Wearing an actual military uniform and looking particularly hardcore now, Grundroth stood there.

Loki stepped back from Sif, not as if he'd been caught doing anything but as if he'd finished what he was going to say, even though he'd said nothing. He beckoned Grundroth inside and asked, “What is it?” 

Grundroth looked reluctant but answered, “We have word from Asgard: a small plane landed in Goeteborg this morning, with three passengers. Their police were lax and didn’t catch that the passports were false until it was too late.” 

Fake passports, small plane - that was a common set up for illicit operations. Smaller airports often didn’t bother with proper procedure or had outdated equipment, unlike the main airports. 

His voice too controlled, Loki asked, “And you think they’re coming here? After me?” 

“I hope they stayed in Asgard for some other criminal purpose, but if that’s true, it’s not my problem. The border stations have been reinforced, and we’re pulling the video from the toll booths, but it’ll take time to analyze. We’re going to be very careful.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a printed photo. “This is from the airport office camera. Do you recognize any of them?” he asked Sif.

Hoping to help, Sif peered at the picture. It was pixelated, and worse, the three men wore coats with the collars turned up and hats, one with dark glasses. But she tried, trying to place the three, until admitting defeat with a shake of her head. “No. That one is familiar, maybe from a photo, but the others I don’t think I’ve seen before.” 

Grundroth plucked the sheet from her hand. “It was worth a try.” Pausing he looked at Loki’s face, reading the stillness in it, and offered quietly, “My lord, we will stop them and end this. And I promise, all of us in your detail will protect you to our last breath.” 

“I know. And I appreciate the thought. But that’s… what I would like to avoid,” Loki told him, voice a little ragged, as he bit his lip. “I don’t want anyone to die for me.” 

“We are volunteers, Your Highness. It is our choice to make, for Jotunheim and for you. It is an honor.” Grundroth put his fist to his chest and bowed his head, before he went out and shut the door behind him.

Loki moved to mantel to look at the photos, but Sif doubted he saw anything until he touched the photo of his mother, clearly seeking comfort from her image and memories.

Sif watched, wishing she knew what she could say. But what comfort could there be, after being told that more assassins might be coming, and his bodyguard was willing to give his life? Which was of course, a bodyguard’s job, but Sif doubted anyone had told Loki so plainly that he was doing it freely. 

“Is there anything I can say to help?” she asked finally when the silence lingered. 

He pulled his hand away and turned, forcing a smile on his lips. “No, it’s all right. Nothing’s changed. I still have to give this speech.”

But despite a valiant effort, she could see it for the pretense it was. “If - if it’ll help at all, I really am happy to move to a hotel. I don’t want to be more of a bother to you, when you’ve got enough already.” 

That offer seemed to recall him to some more primal instinct of hospitality, and he straightened. “Certainly not. I invited you and you are not a bother.”

“I’m making things worse between you and your father.” 

“Going to a hotel wouldn’t help that. And it’s my doing, not yours. As soon as the address is over, he'll relax and realize you mean to help."

She hoped so, but Laufey had a point that Loki was taking a very serious risk with her. Even if Sif genuinely wasn't going to do anything, the fact was, she could, Loki couldn't know with certainty that she wouldn't. "Well, I’ll try to be unobtrusive and as helpful as I can.” 

“Will you still come watch the address?” he asked.

She was a bit startled. “Of course, if I can. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know, more assassins?” he joked weakly.

“All the more reason to come. I miss tackling you to the floor.”

That made him smile more genuinely. “Me, too.” He gestured in the direction of the door. "My father's assistant will escort you to the parliament building and act as your translator in the viewing gallery. I would like to escort you myself, but..." 

“That’s okay,” she intervened. “I understand.” 

Reaching up, he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "I need to stop thinking in English," he muttered. “This is going to be terrible in my own language..."

"Imagine you're dancing again," she advised him. "With all those eyes on us, you were dancing with someone you thought might want you dead, and you were so calm and cool.”

He gave a short laugh. "You thought I was calm and cool? No, not a bit. That was only an illusion." 

"Well, I bought it. So do it again." 

Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips again, brushing the back lightly, and she shivered. 

"I shall," he said, and flicked his eyes up to meet hers. "And later, this evening, perhaps we might dance again? I promised you another dance."

Neither of them looked away, and the smile grew on her lips. "Yes, you did." 

It was with renewed confidence, he let go of her hand and straightened, chin getting a bit more stubborn. "Then shall we?" 

He strode to the door and flung it open.

* * *

tbc...


	11. Chapter 11

Sif had never seen a legislature in person, having missed even the field trip in fourth grade to the state capitol. The Jotunheim parliament was a smaller room than she expected, no bigger than the room for the Stark party.

The viewing gallery wrapped two-thirds of the upper level of the chamber, part of it reserved for media including the large television cameras, but the rest was packed with regular people sitting on the benches. On the floor, less than a hundred small desks were in tidy rows facing the speaker's desks and the king's chair beneath the flag of Jotunheim.

Sif looked intently at everyone she could see. Presumably Jotunheim security had done their job and everyone in the gallery had been searched for weapons at least, but she wondered if she might recognize someone anyway. The senators or whatever they were called milled around on the lower floor, murmuring to each other, while the viewing gallery rustled and whispered, impatient for everything to get started.

With some muttering between the security and a woman near the door, it seemed things were about to get started, as she walked to the front and banged a heavy pole on the wooden platform, announcing the proceedings to come to order.

The legislators took their desks, and as soon as they were in place, a short fanfare announced the king's arrival as the high wooden doors opened.

He was wearing a similar outfit to Loki's, but his jacket was black, with a green sash and various jewels pinned to it. His regalia included a sword in a gold-chased scabbard, and he rested one hand on the hilt with easy familiarity. Walking straight to the steps, he stood before his chair and waited for Loki to enter in his wake, and then nodded to the guards to close the doors again. He sat down, and Loki stood at attention beside him. Loki didn't move his head, but she saw his eyes sweep both the gathered legislators and then up to the gallery. He hadn't reached her before the woman banged her stick again, and King Laufey spoke what seemed to be official opening words.

The woman bowed her head to him, and moved to the empty desk at the front.

At Sif's side, Martina leaned close to murmur, "Prime Minister Skadi gives the floor to the king to speak."

In a voice that was nearly a growl, Laufey proceeded to lay out his reason for calling the emergency session: that foreign groups had declared themselves enemies of Jotunheim and he was calling upon the legislature to approve military action to punish acts of aggression. "My son, Crown Prince Loki Laufeyson, who has been the target of these attempts on his life, will now speak."

Loki bowed to his father, and with a measured step moved to the microphone where the prime minister had spoken. Martina translated for her in a murmur, but there was very little Sif couldn't guess what he was saying. "Good afternoon. Thank you for your attention and the well-wishes that have come my way recently. For the record I will summarize how I have been attacked and the measures we have undertaken to identify those responsible."

If she hadn't known he was anxious, she'd never have guessed from his demeanor. He spoke calmly, sometimes reading from the index card he'd laid on the stand before him, and only rising into passion when he spoke about his tesseract and how it truly had the potential to bring free energy to the world.

Prime Minister Skadi rose back to her feet, with only a few – presumably her own party – following her lead at first, but then soon all the legislators were standing. Sif stood, too, as the other others in the gallery applauded, and someone yelled something in support from the opposite gallery before being hushed.

Loki stopped, looking around as his expression held astonishment. It must be wonderful for him to be respected for something he had _done_ , not simply an accident of birth. He smiled, at first tentatively, ducking his head, before the grin flowered into something radiant and he murmured his appreciation.

He probably didn't need to tell the rest of the story of Barton shooting at him and the Chitauri attack had hit him in the back and only body armor had kept him from kidney damage at best, and a severed spine if the bullet had been a bit to the left. He spoke of Arkady Thanos, hiring multiple assassins to have him killed not just because the tesseract would destroy his empire but revenge on Laufey for preventing him from taking a cut of the Jotunheim oil revenue.

Which Sif hadn't known before, and Arkady had never mentioned, but made some sense. It had seemed a bit more personal with him than simply a potential problem to his future revenue stream.

Loki returned to his father's side, where someone had put a chair for him. Laufey gave him an approving nod, and a quick grip of his shoulder, which made Loki lift his chin in obvious pride. They both listened to the speakers and await the vote.

The Prime Minister stated her intention to support the king's call for military action, the leader of the main opposition added his support. There was only one speaker to rise against, speaking with care that of course it was terrible that someone was trying to murder the crown prince, but was violence really the answer? The king and Loki listened without visible reaction, though that didn’t stop anyone in the gallery from booing.

During another speaker, this one furiously in opposition to the previous one’s pacifism, Loki's gaze wandered upward, finally finding her. She gave him both thumbs up, and he flashed a smile before repressing it and turning his attention back to the speaker.

She caught a few people turning to see what he was smiling at, and she made her face blank, hoping they would think it was Martina he was looking at.

The final vote was heavily in favor of military action, and since no one was surprised, she figured the whole event had been largely for the benefit of the cameras and the audience of this rather extraordinary moment.

Martina looked at her phone and then leaned close to Sif to say in her ear, “He wishes you to ride back with him. Come.”

Audience approval was loud and boisterous, everyone applauding. Sif and Martina made their escape before the session ended.

In the hall outside, Martina smiled in satisfaction. “Good. we cannot let the Americans fight our battle for us.”

“Well, it’s our battle, too,” Sif reminded her. “Thanos attacked on American soil, after all, and the Chitauri killed two people.”

Martina glanced her way and nodded grudging agreement. “Yes. That is so. But I think we take this more personally than you.”

Sif smiled. “Oh, I doubt anyone takes it more personally than I do. Except Loki, I guess. They shot at me, too.” She patted her leg where the wound had scabbed over and was healing, but it was definitely not gone. But she knew what Martina meant; the whole country was taking this attack personally. Remembering what Volstagg said about the other countries and how Thor bad stood with Loki in the press conference, she asked, “Asgard taking this personally, too?”

“Oh, yes. They already passed a resolution of solidarity. Thanos has no idea what he has raised.”

Sif had the feeling that was true. He’d thought he’d be able to dispose of Loki more quietly, making his point without too much notice or retaliation. That had been the purpose of the early attempts, even her own with poison. But now the Chitauri had escalated the situation into something involving nations and national outrage.

Martina showed her pass and they were allowed in the side hall where security was waiting for king, prince, and prime minister to emerge, as the session closed. There were people on radios, issuing commands, and then quiet fell as the double doors were pulled open from the inside. Two of the formal uniformed guards held them for the king.

He looked grimly resolved as Martina and his own guard came to meet him. Sif hung back out of the way, until Loki came out, too. He smiled as he saw her and started her way, until Grundroth interrupted to report to him.

“Vornir has the car at the side entrance, I’m told,” Loki passed on to her. “And we’re not supposed to linger, so the other cars can move up. Come with me.”

He seemed relaxed now that the speech was over, smiling as he ushered her before him.

Sif had no idea where they were until the door opened for them. The side entrance of the parliament building was the main boulevard that followed the south edge of the park all the way up to the palace. She approved of this; it would get them quickly into the car and quickly back to the palace, with not a lot of time lingering outside.

Grundroth looked around warily as he held the door for them.

“Vornir,” Loki greeted as he slid all the way over to let Sif sit down.

They were back in the white Volvo SUV, with tinted windows and extra antennas and equipment in front, that had taken her and Loki from the airport. Grundroth sat in the passenger seat up front, and spoke into his comm, as the car pulled away from the door, to let the king’s car take its place.

“Did you think it went well?” Loki asked her.

“It did,” she agreed. “See? I told you, you were nervous for nothing. Though I think all you had to do was not wreck it; everyone was definitely in your corner already.”

Central Utgard was so pretty. The left side of the street were shops and restaurants. They were of that particularly northern European design, some newer and boxier, some echoing older designs, but none of them taller than about five stories, presumably so nothing was taller than the palace on its hill.  The right side of the car was a large park that stretched from parliament building all the way to the palace. Walkways, flower beds, and lawn were laid out beneath green trees, with benches and water fountains scattered about to take in the restful view. There were colorful shacks in the park, selling ice cream, and she smiled at little children getting pulled away from one, looking disappointed that it was closed up.

From behind that small building, a man walked into view. He was in black tactical gear, which alone was enough to catch her attention, but he also had a metal arm prosthesis. And he was carrying a grenade launcher.

Shock froze her blood as she identified both him and the weapon. _Oh my God_.

He lifted the weapon and for a second she felt as if their eyes met, because he was looking right at her through the dark lenses of his face mask. He fired.

Then she found her voice and yelled, “Vornir!”

She flung her left hand at Loki, frantically and uselessly trying to protect him, as, thank God, Vornir believed her and accelerated the car into a sharp turn in an evasive maneuver.

But it was not enough. A thunderous roar and a giant hand hurled her forward, into the seat belt, and she screamed as the world tumbled all around her.

Through the chaos, she held onto one thought: the most notorious assassin on the planet had found them.

The Winter Soldier had come.

 

* * *

tbc...

 


	12. Chapter 12

The car shuddered finally to a halt. They’d stopped, and somehow she was still alive. Her heart was pounding hard enough that she couldn’t hear or feel anything else, until her panting breaths eased.

She opened her eyes and saw nothing but beige. She lifted a hand to paw at it, finding her face was near the side air-bag. She shoved at it, feeling trapped, but straightened away from it, wincing at the dig in her shoulder where the seat belt had caught her.

But the tactile sense of the slick surface of the airbag and the ache in her shoulder reminded her where she was and what had had happened. She couldn’t see out her own window, but she could see between the front air bags that the front windshield was a smashed mess, but it looked like they were actually _inside_ one of the clothing boutiques that lined the street.

Holy shit, they’d been hurled right through the plate glass off the street. Hopefully no one on the sidewalk or the store had been in the way.

The first sound to penetrate was the crackle of a radio and a voice calling demanding something. Grundroth’s familiar voice answered them and he turned in his seat to ask urgently how Loki was.

She looked, too. Loki was blinking himself alert. “I-- I’m okay,” he answered. His voice was shaking and he didn’t look “okay” but at least he wasn’t majorly hurt.

Grundroth asked Vornir something, who replied, but the loud crack of a gunshot slamming into the body of the car interrupted. Everybody cried out with the surprise, and Sif ducked, prying at the seatbelt buckle so she could get lower. She stretched out a hand to grab Loki’s arm and pull at him. “Get down! He’s shooting!”

“Who?” Loki demanded. The car shook with another shot, as it hit the back side window behind Loki. He threw himself down awkwardly over his belt, fumbling at his buckle to release it.

“Winter Soldier! I saw him,” she said, loudly enough hopefully Grundroth heard and understood what they were up against.

The glass was armored, spreading into a spiderweb but not penetrating. But it wasn’t going to hold forever. Another shot hit the side of the car, and then into the glass on the other side of the airbag on Loki's side, rapid fire slamming like hailstones on the side of the car. One hand over his head, Loki scrambled away, half in the foot well and half on top of her, grabbing at her arm as if to pull himself away from the attack.

She was pressed up against her door, but knew: They were sitting ducks.

Grundroth shouted at Loki, to stay down, as Vornir returned fire out his broken driver’s side window. That at least made the attacker get under cover and the barrage stopped.

“Weapon!” Sif called. “Is there another gun?”

“Under your seat,” Grundroth shouted, thankfully without a protest. She felt under there, finding Loki’s hand trying to grab for it, too, but she shoved his hand away and found the familiar grip of an H&K compact. She grabbed for the door handle and tried to open the door, but it was stuck.

“No, come on!” She shoved with her shoulder as hard as she could. The door was damaged, but she was not going to let it trap her in this kill zone. No, this was _not_ how she or Loki were going to die. The door was going to open. “C’mon, come on, you son a bitch!” Loki tried to help, pushing it at from his awkward position, but it was her panicked shove that got it loose, nearly dumping her to the floor.

She scrambled out, better able to see her position now, as she looked frantically around.

The car had rolled as it had turned, landing it on its wheels facing backward, inside the clothing shop. The white marble was strewn with glass, mannequin bits, and loose clothing. The car itself blocked her view of the street, but at least the ultra modern, sleek design of the store meant there was no cover for anyone trying to sneak up on them. Not yet, anyway, there had to be at least one more person out there, besides the Winter Soldier. Unfortunately the lack of cover also left one sales person crouched behind the dubious protection of the smoked glass of the register stand. Her eyes met Sif’s and widened even more when she saw the gun.

“Back door?” Sif yelled at her. At first she stared as if she had no idea what Sif was saying. “Do you have a back door?” She nodded once, and pointed to her right with a shaking hand.

Grundroth noticed what she was doing and shouted orders, and the woman immediately started to crawl for the door.

A crack and a yelp from Loki as his window shattered and the airbag and the back of Grundroth’s seat were hit. She clicked off the safety and looked beneath the car but saw nothing. The assassin must be around the corner of the wall.

Grundroth shoved open his own door and stood up, to shoot across the roof of the car back toward the street, joining Vornir. Then he ducked down again to order, “Out of the car, we go out the back. Vornir and I cover.”

Sif beckoned Loki to get out next to her and stay low. When he tried to raise his head, she used her left hand to hold it down beneath the level of the seats, forcing him to slither out, hands first, until he could swing his legs out.

Finally there were sirens in the distance, as the police came. At first Sif hoped the assassin would take that as his cue to escape, but instead he doubled down and fired a barrage at the car, with a deafening thunder of bullets slamming into the metal and the windows.

She tried to put herself between Loki and the shooter, while he was trying to curl around her. They ended up crouching awkwardly together, his back to the door to put his armor to it, but with his head under her arms against her chest. She could feel the heat on her skin and the shrapnel of bits of glass or tile.

Grundroth was crouched with them and grabbed her arm to get her attention. She could barely hear him but could figure it out well enough, “Don’t stop, run.”

She nodded her readiness, and Loki shifted his weight.

Finally, their chance came as sudden silence descended. Empty magazine. This was their chance.

She yanked Loki after her and they ran for the back door. She sent a couple of un-aimed shots in the direction of the shooter, hitting the corner to keep him back. The others’ cover fire was more accurate, but despite that, she still tensed, waiting for the bullet to hit her as she ran for the door and slammed it open, Loki at her heels.

Weapon at the ready, she surveyed the back room quickly with its clothing in plastic on hangars, paperwork, and abandoned coffee cups. But no people. The woman who’d been out on the floor had wisely kept going out the rear exit.

Sif headed there, but Loki stopped. “We need to wait for them!”

That was the last thing she wanted to do. There was more gunfire out there; hopefully, because the police had joined the fray, but that might push Winter Soldier toward them. They couldn’t stop.

“No, we don’t wait, we keep going and get you the fuck out of here.” She was about to grab his arm and force him out, when the door opened. She had the gun up, finger on the trigger, but it was Grundroth.

“GO!” he ordered them sharply, sending one more bullet out the door and then rushing at them, while he changed his clip.

“But Vornir--” Loki objected.

“He’s fine! Go.” Grundroth's expression didn't match 'fine' but it forbid discussion, so they went.

Sif shoved open the heavier fire door of the back of the boutique, emerging into a central hallway with utilitarian white paint with wood touches and doors all along the length for the businesses on the street side, doors at the far end going back to the street - which she turned to head for, but Grundroth ordered curtly, “This way.”

He pointed the other way, and she figured he was trying to find an exit farther away from the attack.

She led the way, nervous every time they passed another doorway, but they were all shut; either the employees were already out or they were out in the street trying to see what was going on. It was a nice respite, and let her start to get her hearing back.

So she heard the door behind them open. In one motion, she spun flat against the wall, slamming Loki with her into the shallow niche of another door.

Just in time, as a bullet plowed into the wall and another whizzed past, smashing into the far end of the hall. Sif saw a dark figure in black tac gear like a shadow and pulled the trigger, sending him back behind the door.

Loki had found the door open and pushed it ajar. “Sif! Grundroth, come on!” he called.

Sif’s eyes met Grundroth, trapped on the other side of the hall, and without a word, fired down the hall to cover his crossing. He threw himself past her into the open door as she emptied her clip and she followed them.

Loki slammed the door and tried to find something to lock it with, but there was nothing. They’d found a staircase with flights both up and down.

“Clip!” she held out her hand and Grundroth slapped one in her palm without argument.

“No more. Go up!” Grundroth told Loki, who started up, Sif at his heels. Grundroth got on his radio to report their position, getting some kind of instructions back. At the first landing, Loki stopped, panting for breath. Though she was too, her heart pounding, and adrenaline surging through her body. “Go,” Grundroth ordered curtly. “To the roof.”

While Loki slowed, Sif went past him, just to make sure it was clear.

Another flight up, Loki snickered to himself, and she looked down curiously. “What?”

“I did warn you about assassins,” he told her, and gave a little breathless gasp of a laugh.

She remembered the conversation and smiled. “But I haven’t throw myself on top of you.”

“Whenever you like,” he returned, and she looked back down at him, incredulous that he was flirting at a time like this.

He grinned, and past him, Grundroth had a look on his face that he wanted desperately to tell them both to shut up, but was holding his tongue. He settled for a terse, “Hurry.”

She climbed faster, though she noticed Loki still seemed unable to catch his breath, and was favoring his left foot. But she didn’t have time to ask, as a door below opened. She peeked over the railing and nearly got a bullet in the face, as Loki yanked her back with a painful grip on her shoulder. “Stay back!”

“Run!” Grundroth ordered.

Being trapped on the roof wasn’t sounding like an awesome plan, but maybe he was assuming they could get to a different building, since most of the buildings in the same block were connected.

She prodded Loki to go as quickly as he could. “Go, come on, hurry!”

Grundroth waited, watching for a better shot as the Winter Soldier climbed the stairs behind them. They exchanged fire, and that put a little fire under her feet to climb faster. She was going to go out the door to the third floor, but Loki shook his head. “No.” He had to pant for breath. “The roof.” His face was quite flushed, and when he tugged at his fancy coat, she realized his shortness of breath wasn’t just fear making him hyperventilate but his body armor was too tight.

They didn’t have time to fix it, and he couldn’t take it off, so she stayed closer to him, just in case.

She shoved open the door at the top of the stairwell, and felt the welcome cool air on her face. Gun ready, in case someone was here ahead of them, she stepped outside, checking, then gestured Loki out.

Grundroth followed and pushing them away, fired at the lock, trying to get it stuck. Then he looked at the sky and talked urgently into his radio, before reporting, “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes until what?” But she saw soon enough as Loki pointed to a helicopter on approach, and she thought this was a terrible plan, envisioning the helicopter bursting into a fireball. “He has a grenade launcher!”

“Not with him,” Grundroth answered. “It will land over there. Stay back from the edge.”

This part of the roof was pitched, designed for snowmelt and rain, so she and Loki hurried, carefully, on the slope across the peaked center of the roof, climbed over the low barrier to another building with a flatter roof. She kept looking back toward the stairwell hut, where Grundroth was waiting for the door to open. It stayed shut. Maybe Vornir, if he still could, or other good guys were coming behind, giving the Winter Soldier something else to think about.

The helicopter was getting closer and she could see it was white, with a Jotunheim flag and a smaller seal on the door.

Nervous she kept an eye on the helicopter as it approached and back to the door, waving Grundroth to join them, as she waited in a two handed stance to hit the first person to come through that door after him. But the door didn’t open.

Where the hell was he?

Grundroth took over Loki, pushing his head beneath the blades as they whirled without slowing up to the door. Sif made her own way, giving a wave to Margud, who was at the controls.

Sif closed the door behind her, as Grundroth climbed into the co-pilot’s seat.The chopper lurched in the air before she’d sat down. She scanned beneath them, looking for their enemy, but he was gone.

In the jump seat next to her, Loki was leaning against the back, eyes closed, panting for shallow breaths.

Sif put the safety back on her gun and tucked it in the pocket in the back of the pilot’s seat in front of her. Then she put the headset with the attached mic, grateful for the noise reduction from the rotors. “Back to the palace?” she asked, almost shouting.

Margud answered, “No. Someplace safer than the city.”

Sif waited for Loki to ask for a more specific destination, but he seemed not to be paying attention, still trying to catch his breath. The flush had faded for pallor in all but bright spots in his hollow cheeks. He was gripping the edge of the seat, panting shallowly, and was staring blankly, either terrified or on the verge of passing out.

The city dropped beneath them as their altitude increased. She relaxed as they passed well out of range of any weaponry, and turned toward the north. They were safe.

“Here, let me help,” she offered and helped him strip off his fancy coat and then the armored vest, allowing him to finally gulp in deeper breaths and calm down. That left him in a thin white undershirt, damp and clinging from sweat, and she let herself look as she dropped the heavy vest to the floor. Her hands itched to touch him, run her hands up his biceps and shoulders and all over that lean strength.

Forcing her eyes away, she told herself to quit being such a dumb teenager and focus. She gave him his headset which he held in hand, until she poked him, and gestured him to put it on. Finally he did but still didn’t say anything. He was breathing normally now, but was still sitting with a tense rigidity, braced for another attempt on his life.

“Hey!” She laid a hand over his, where he had it on his thigh. He opened his eyes to look at her startled, but he didn’t pull away. “We made it!” she told him. Saying it aloud made it real to her, too, and she laughed, sheer joy at their escape bubbling up inside. “Loki, we made it!”

His eyes met hers and his body relaxed. He grinned, bright with his own relief. He kept their hands tucked together as the helicopter took them away from danger.

* * *

... tbc... 

 


	13. Chapter 13

The helicopter headed deeper into the hills and mountains, glacier-scarred rock and blue lakes beneath them. It was rough terrain, with only occasional sign of habitation. 

Loki pulled his hand from hers to pull his phone out of his back pocket to text something. He waited, tapping the phone against his knee, then asked Grundroth a question about his father.

Sif bit her lip; she had forgotten in all the excitement that Loki’s father had been intended for the car right behind them. The Winter Soldier had focused on Loki, but he never traveled alone. Perhaps they had targeted the king, too.

Fortunately, before Sif’s imaginings became too dire, Margud called back in English, “The king is well, sir. They were alerted in time to keep him out of the car. He and Prime Minister Skadi are safe in the shelter beneath. Security will take him to the farm.” 

Loki leaned back, letting out a soft breath of relief.

Sif wanted to ask about a farm, wondering if Margud was mistaking the English word for something like ‘country estate’, but since conversation was difficult with the noise, she stayed quiet.

The helicopter skimmed the surface of a lake and traced the shoreline, but it wasn’t until the skids bumped the ground that Sif realized they were landing. Out her window there was a lake, encircled by some trees farther back, and a more distant peak rising above.

But they were getting out here, wherever here was, as Grundroth opened his door and Margud started to power everything down.

Loki opened the door on his side, and grabbed both vest and coat from the ground, before stepping out. “Come,” he invited Sif, “we’re here.’

Sif retrieved the gun and scooted to the door. They’d landed on a road leading up a hundred meters or so to a collection of wooden buildings spread out on a ridge. None were particularly large, and they all had a distinctive architecture with sharply raised roofs and pointy bits at the corners.

“Welcome to,” Loki spat out a long word, hopefully its name and hopefully he’d say it again more slowly if he wanted her to repeat it. “It’s the family…” he paused and waved his free hand like trying to catch something, “uh, wilderness house? No.” He frowned. “I know the word. I rarely forget.” 

She reassured him, “It’s been a stressful day.”

He chuckled a bit ruefully. “Yes, just so. The house is for vacation. And to stay at when people are trying to murder you, apparently,” he added with sour humor.

“Your family cabin?” she asked curiously as the four of them headed up there. 

“Still not the word I was trying to find, but yes. We lend it out to other people to stay also. It is a more traditional architecture.” He gestured in the direction of the road and the poles supporting some wires that marched alongside it. “The train and village are that way, so it’s not as isolated as it seems.” 

“I hope so, because it seems to be a million miles away from anyone.” She looked around, and fought the urge to hunch over, make herself smaller, in a reaction to all this vast empty land. 

He was limping, and she focused on that instead. “What happened to your foot?” 

“I wrenched it under the seat. It’s okay. But I could use a drink.” 

“Hell, yes. And it better be the good stuff. I’m not getting shot at and drinking cheap booze,” she demanded, teasing, but not about the drinking part. This house in the boonies better have something alcoholic in it.

He touched her arm. “You’re not hurt, are you? I feel terrible that being around me is putting you in danger. We should take you to the airport and send you the hell away from here.”

“No,” she refused. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“But they could still come here, and--”

She stopped and put her fingers over his lips, now serious. “Loki. I’m not an innocent in all this. I’m involved because I stupidly, terribly, wrongly, took a contract to kill you. That I changed my mind doesn’t erase the fact that I did it in the first place. I owe you, and more to the point, I owe myself. I owe… I don’t know, God. Or karma, or whatever, to help make sure you’re safe.” She gestured at Grundroth, walking ahead of them. “I know you have all these other people trying to do that, and you don’t need me, but I want to.” 

He looked in her eyes and shook his head, resisting her words, “You’ve already done your share, Sif. You came here to give us information on Thanos, not to be almost killed. Again.”

“Well, I haven’t given you any information yet, have I? So you’re not packing me off back to New York,” she said firmly, hoping that if she was determined enough he would understand that she meant it and let it go. 

Grundroth intervened, “At the moment, no one is going any place except inside.” Loki still looked resistant, but had to give in to the inevitable, following Grundroth up the front steps to the double wooden doors. They were unlocked and in the mudroom on the other side, there was a small steel box locked with a combination lock that he opened to pull out a set of keys, to unlock the inner door. 

Within, it smelled musty of a place that had stood closed up for awhile. Sif presumed that usually staff would go ahead of whatever guests were visiting, but obviously no one had expected anyone this time.

The interior more closely matched the exterior than she had expected, being more of a “rustic” look to it, with exposed beams and the wooden planks of the walls left unplastered before they were painted, letting the texture show. The large central room had a stone fireplace, big enough someone could sit inside it, with a seating area around the fireplace, and another furniture grouping around the television and card table. There were two halls going off in either direction. The beams and supports were carved and painted in colorful and detailed floral motifs. It wasn’t as fancy as the palace, but beautiful in its own way.

“Bedrooms are that way,” Loki gestured down one hallway. “There is the main restroom on the left, and the master bedroom has one too. Both were redone recently. Kitchen and dining is the other way, and the kitchen is connected to the storage building. Electrical, staff quarters, and garage are in the other buildings.”

“So it’s not staffed year-round.” 

He shook his head. “It used to be, and there used to be animals as well, but we only use it a few weeks of the year.”

“It would see more use if the family were bigger,” Margud pointed out as she went past, to start methodically opening the shutters to let in the light. “I heard you enjoyed coming here as a child, sir.” 

He took her meaning and groaned. “Oh, now you’re going to start with me? Jotunheim, the place I come to when I want to be harassed.” He let out an aggravated sigh, but since they were both smiling, Sif smiled, too at the teasing. He looked at her. “Come, let’s check out the pantry, I don’t know about you, but getting shot at has made me hungry.”

While the guards went around to tend other things, she followed Loki to the kitchen. It was modern and spotless, but empty. The refrigerator was turned off. But the cabinet held a variety of cans and tins and jars. “Ah, good, we won’t starve,” he reported, plucking a few things off the shelves and putting them on the kitchen island. “Tomatoes, pickles, sardines, and,” he picked up another jar and turned it around to look at the label. But he seemed to have lost the English word for that, too, setting the jar back down and saying, “not sardines. And crackers.” He looked up at her, smiling. “A feast.” 

A little surprised, since she’d expected him to complain about the food, she chuckled, “I’m glad there’s food at all, honestly. They cleared this place out.” 

They carried their loot to the large table and laid it out at the end, and Loki had Grundroth and Margud eat with them. Loki cracked open one of the bottles of red wine and poured for everyone. It was a bit funny to eat tinned sardines and pickles with what Sif suspected was a very good vintage. The guards accepted only a little, but Loki drank his. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “Lodge. That was the word I was searching for earlier. This is the lodge.”

She shook her head at him, chuckling, and patted his arm. “It’s okay. I got it. Just relax.” 

He let out a sheepish laugh, and picked up a cracker before putting it back on his plate. His expression somber again he asked, “Did Vornir make it?”

The two guards exchanged a look. “He was hit and went to hospital,” Margud answered. “That’s all we know.” 

“Oh, I hope he’ll be all right. I should visit him. Later,” Loki added hastily and rubbed a hand over his face and rubbing his eyes. “I know I can’t right now.” 

“We will pass on your good wishes,” Grundroth promised.

“And the hunt? Have you had news?” Loki asked.

Grundroth shook his head. “No trace. Yet. It’s early.”

“I bet he went to ground.” Sif lifted up her wine glass to look at it in the light. She was rather glad for the wine, as well as the aspirin she’d found in the cabinet in the bathroom. She suspected her bruises were developing bruises. “Biding his time until he can get out when the manhunt dies down. It’s hard to hide the arm, that’s why he has accomplices.”

“But we’re safe here?” Loki asked. “You think?”

Grundroth nodded. “Of course, or we wouldn’t have come here. The location is difficult to reach, even if he should find out somehow where you are. I doubt he expected us to have a helicopter on standby.” 

“It was brilliant,” Loki complimented them, though he seemed distracted.

Sif frowned at his plate which looked untouched since he’d put food on it. “I thought you said you were hungry.”

He started when he looked at the food as if he’d expected it magically to transport itself to his stomach somehow. “Oh. Right.” 

Sif put jam on one of the plain biscuits and slid it onto his place. “Here, try dessert first.”

He ate her biscuit and a couple of crackers, and finished the wine in his glass before he pushed back from the table. “I’m sick of these clothes. I need a shower and change.” The two guards rose with him, though he tried to wave them back down. “Just be a minute.”

Sif watched him go and gnawed at her inner lip. Given the look that Margud and Grundroth exchanged, his behavior was unusual. But they let him be, and Sif figured he needed his space.

“I will check the perimeter,” Grundroth said and left through the kitchen door to the outside.

As soon as he was gone, Sif asked quietly, “Vornir’s dead, isn’t he?”

Margud nodded shortly, allowing herself to look saddened by the loss. “Damn,” Sif murmured. “He saved our lives. Loki’s going to take it really hard.”

“I would ask you not tell him. He has so much right now,” she said but then smiled at Sif. “He likes you. It’s good to see.”

She chuckled, uneasy at the implication. “But there’s nothing… I’m… well, you know what I am. What I was. There’s no future in it.” 

Margud was silent for a moment and glanced at the royal crest painted on the wall, surrounded by flowers. “Perhaps. Such things are not my place. But as a woman,” she added, “I would say, do not give up before the race is done. Our prince made the laws of physics bend for him, I doubt he will let what other people think stop him from anything.”

With that piece of advice handed over, she got up from the table to join her partner outside, leaving Sif with some thoughts.

What Margud had said sounded hopeful, even encouraging. It was good to hear that Loki liked her. But liking her, even more, wasn’t enough; She knew what she was. She knew no political figure could risk attachment to her, with such a shady past. It could destroy him, and all the good he might otherwise do. She couldn’t let that happen. 

She was no starry-eyed maiden who believed in fairy tales. Even if she did, there had already been one fairy-tale wedding between Christopher of Aurentia and his commoner bride last year that had splashed all the tabloids. Sif was pretty sure the fairy tale quota was already filled up for the century.

Impatient with her own thoughts and ridiculous direction they’d taken, she put the food away and went to find if anyone had left a change of clothes in this place. She wanted to get out of this torn blouse of Pepper’s and the skirt she’d been wearing for what felt like a week.

She tried the drawers and closets of the other bedrooms, scavenging a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and t-shirt to change into after she showered, too. The warm water felt great on her aches, though she winced at the sight of the bruise developing where the seatbelt had grabbed her shoulder.

The water was still running in the master bedroom when she was done, and she smiled, letting herself imagine the water flowing down... a few soap bubbles and a towel wrapped low on his hips... 

It was a pleasant fantasy for a moment, until it occurred to her that he’d been in there quite awhile. She knocked on the outer door, “Loki? Everything okay?” There was no answer; he probably couldn’t hear it inside the restroom. 

She cracked open the door, scanned the room to make sure he wasn’t there and had somehow not noticed the water was still running. There was a large bed, dresser, vanity, all light wood but not fancy. The most impressive part was a wide window with a view toward the lake and the mountains beyond it. But Sif ignored the view after she heard a strange sound from the bathroom, like a low groan. She knocked on the connecting door. “Hey, are you okay?” she called. She heard nothing, and she called again, knocking harder so he could hear it above the water. “Loki? Are you all right?” 

All she heard was that noise again, which was not an answer. 

More worried then, imagining all kinds of assassins having gotten to him in the bathroom even as she chided herself for being ridiculous, she cracked open the door to peek inside. Or at least to hear him more clearly. “Loki?” 

The bathroom was a modern space in blue and white tile, and in the reflection in the mirror above the sink, she could see straight into the shower stall with its cylinder of clear glass. And she could see Loki sitting on the floor, his back pressed up to the glass, hugging his knees, while he stared blankly and panted for breath. 

She took one step inside, realized she shouldn’t be there. and hurried back through the bedroom and into the main house calling for the others. “Loki’s having a panic attack in the bathroom.” 

Grundroth heard, and hurried past her. Through the open door of the bathroom, Sif watched as Grundroth shut off the water and grabbed the bath towel off the stand to wrap the prince in. 

He said something reassuring, murmuring to Loki to try to calm him down. Loki’s hands grabbed at his arm, tightly enough it must have hurt, but he didn’t move away letting Loki come out of it. He blinked and slowly his breathing calmed. Grundroth helped him up to his feet, keeping an arm around him. He swayed, making Sif bit her lip in worry, and she realized she was getting her wish to see Loki wet and in a towel, and it wasn’t what she’d wanted at all. 

“He needs rest,” Grundroth said as Sif moved aside to let them out of the bathroom. 

Hair dripping and face far too ashen, Loki couldn’t look at her and he was murmuring something, either to her or Grundroth or both, “I’m okay, I’m sorry,” over and over. 

She laid a hand on his cheek to raise his face to stop the reflexive words and so he could see her. “You’re all right,” she said. “You’re reacting to the attack, but we’re safe here.”

“Yes,” Grundroth agreed firmly. His eyes met Sif’s then, and he gave her a little nod. It was silly how much his approval warmed her. But now they were a team.

He urged Loki to the bed and Sif withdrew. In the main room, she turned on the television in the corner to keep herself occupied not sure she’d find anything way out here, unless there was a dish she hadn’t seen. The t.v. turned on, and immediately she saw not only was there a signal, but it was news from Utgard. And naturally the news from Utgard was talking about only one thing.

“Holy crap!” she blurted. 

There, on the screen, was an image of the car full of bullet holes, windows blown out, side and rear crumpled. The driver’s side door had been cut open presumably to get Vornir out, and there was a glimpse of blood on the cushion before the image mercifully changed. It was amazing _anyone_ had lived through that, and three of them had gotten out with little damage at all. 

She couldn’t read the caption but there was a photo of Loki in the corner, which stayed there as the main image went back to the newsreader and her solemn face.

Margud came back in and watched the coverage with her. “Good. They are reporting he is safe and in hiding.”

Both turned their heads as Grundroth entered and he told them, “We will let him rest, but I think he is okay.” 

Sif smiled in relief. “Good. Thank you. I feel bad, I should’ve helped him, but it was awkward…” And he was naked, but she was trying not to think about that. She’d looked away before she’d seen everything, but she’d seen quite a lot more than she probably should have. 

“No need. You helped,” he reassured her. “The rest of our team is on approach. Do not be alarmed.” 

He and Margud went outside, as another helicopter landed, disgorged people and equipment, and left again. Sif thought the noise might attract Loki’s attention, but the bedroom door remained shut. He must be asleep.

Instead of going inside, the new people and equipment took over the outbuildings, setting up a security perimeter. They moved around with well-armed precision, and Sif felt more confident that she and Loki would be safe here. 

She picked a guest bedroom, closed the shutters and the curtain against the sunlight still shining at this late hour, and flopped on the bed to rest.

* * *

tbc...


	14. Chapter 14

Loki flopped on the bed, like a fish on land, unable to get comfortable or shut his eyes for more than a few minutes. The sound of a helicopter sent him scrambling for clothes, unwilling to be in a sheet-toga if the house was under attack. His heart was racing as he yanked on pants and a t-shirt, before he cracked open a shutter to see a second military helicopter parked not far from the first, and Margud out there to greet new arrivals.

Relief so intense he nearly threw up washed through him and left him shaking. He sat on the bed, with his head in his hands.

 _I need to get a grip. Assassins are not everywhere. They are not coming in helicopters; they are not coming into my shower. Grundroth promised we’re safe here, and I need to stop being stupid and listen to him_.

Inhaling a deep breath, he stretched out on the bed again and grabbed his phone to look for distraction. Instead he saw texts and emails he didn’t want to deal with and cleared all the notifications, then reconsidered. He looked for Erik or Jane’s messages hoping they had something about the project, but there were older “ _saw your speech, great job_ ” messages. There was one from Darcy that at least made him smile: _OMG superhot prince suit_. Followed by an entire screen of drooling emojis.

That was followed by a bunch of less amusing “are you okay?” messages.

No, he was not okay, he’d freaked out in the fucking bathroom. That was a completely _logical_ place to freak out, having nothing to do with anything. Pathetic.

And now he was wide awake, even though he knew he was exhausted.

 _I am safe. I am surrounded by people protecting me_.

The mantra seemed to have the opposite of his intended effect; making his heart loud in his ears and he was tense, braced for _something_. He finally pushed himself upright, put his phone in his pocket, and went to the room next door to boot up the computer on the desk there. At least he could work.

Twenty minutes later he was staring at one of his in-progress files with no idea what he was looking at. Useless.

The house seemed deserted. Sif was asleep on the bed in the smaller guestroom, and he stayed in the open doorway watching for a moment. She looked cute in her baggy pajama bottoms and shirt, though he missed being able to look at her legs.

Silently he pulled the door almost closed and wandered out to the main room. Grundroth and Margud must be sleeping in the staff cabin, though he saw watchers out there in the dusky gloom of the early morning.

Pouring himself Scotch off the bar, he threw himself in the big armchair and took out his phone again. He could call his father or Tony, or Thor, or Kit. They were all probably worried about him. He sent out a group text to them all: _Unhurt and safe. I’ll call when I can_.

But there was only one person he wanted to talk to.

Loki hesitated once he’d found the number before stabbing connect. As soon as he did it, he regretted it, but didn’t hang up -- she’d only call back anyway, once she noticed he called, so he might as well leave a message. He’d tell her he was okay and she could pass it on to Thor.

But still, he called the personal phone of Frigga, queen of Asgard, at one in the morning, because he was closer to her than he was to Thor. Each summer after Loki’s mother had died, Laufey had packed him off to vacation with the Asgardian royal family for a fortnight. It had been a public gesture to bring the two nations closer again after the dispute between them had nearly come to war, but mostly it had been because Loki had been sullen and argumentative. As intended, Thor’s ebullience had helped pull Loki from his moodiness, but Frigga’s kindness and patience had been what had unlocked the loss into something that could heal.

Given the hour, he didn’t expect her to answer. “ _Loki? Sweetheart, is it you?_ ”

The sound of her voice was like a knife, slipping right through all his careful defenses, and to his shock his eyes burned with sudden heat. “It’s me,” he said, hoarsely, and lifted his legs to curl up in the armchair. “I’m sorry to wake you…”

“ _No, no_ ,” Frigga reassured him. “ _You didn’t, and I’m glad to hear from you. I won’t ask where you are, but I will ask how you’re doing_?”

“I’m okay.”

She hesitated, to let that one fall to the ground, then said gently, “ _Dearest, you don’t call me in the middle of the night because you’re okay. Talk to me, I’m here._ ”

With his free hand, he picked at the fringe on the arm of the chair, rubbing at the worn velvet. “I was okay after New York, I was. But now, this time… I don’t know, it’s different. I’m-- I-- I can’t sleep,” he said. the incessant ticking of the clock on the side table filled the silence of the house. He admitted, “I … freaked out in the shower. I kept imagining the walls were falling on me, and I couldn’t breathe. Grundroth had to coax me out like a child.” He forced a laugh, “Oh, God, why am I saying this?”

“ _Hush, sweetie, you can tell me anything you want, and you know I will love you just the same_.” she murmured soothingly. “ _I think it’s all right for you to be affected by all these terrible things lately. Fear is nothing to be ashamed of, you know, especially when people are shooting grenades and bullets at you. I saw the picture of your car on the news, and I was terrified for you. I can only imagine how terrifying it must’ve been to be inside it. There’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe you’ll need help later, or maybe you recover on your own, but it’s been less than a day. On top of jet lag besides. Be kind to yourself._ ”

The gentle absolution in her voice caught on his heart, until he felt it was too small in his ribs. He brushed the wetness off his cheeks with the back of his hand and yet felt more at ease. “I -- I love you,” he whispered. “You should know that. Just in case.”

“ _Oh, sweetie_ ,” her voice broke and she sounded like she might cry, too. “ _Of course I know, but I’m glad to hear it. But I am not glad that you’re thinking about things to do ‘just in case’. You’re going to be fine. You’re such a brave boy_.” The tone of her voice reminded him of that time on the yacht he’d finally cried for his mother on Frigga’s lap, and she’d stroked his hair. “ _You’re the other son of my heart. Since the day you came to vacation with us, prickly as a hedgehog_.”

He blurted a laugh, surprised into humor. “A hedgehog?”

“ _A little black hedgehog,_ ” she said and now he could tell she was smiling as she teased him, “ _You were all moody, but when you curled up to sleep you looked about five. You were the most adorable thing I’d seen in years_.”

“Oh, God, I was _not_ adorable,” he complained, embarrassed, and her rich laugh made him feel much better.

“ _Of course you were. Now then, tell me all about this young woman you like. Thor said you didn’t tell him much_.”

He hesitated and glanced toward the opening to the hall. He and Frigga were speaking Asgardian, so Sif shouldn’t know he was talking about her or what he was saying, but he still wanted to check if she was there. He answered, “Not much to tell. She’s here, but only because she feels guilty for what she thought about doing. And I think she likes the excitement of it, but it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“ _Are you sure_?” she asked. “ _Because if you like her_ \--”

“She made her intentions clear. And it’ll never work out anyway,” he said, more sharply, to get her to drop it.

“ _I didn’t know you saw the future, darling_ ,” she reproved and advised, “ _Don’t shut the door too early. There’s something about her that you’re drawn to, even Thor saw that much. It would be a shame for you to send her away too soon. And that, is the only motherly advice i will give you on that topic_ ,” she finished, knowing without a sound from him that he was bristling at her insistence on pursuing it, when he’d told her it was impossible. She gentled her tone, “ _Be sure you care for yourself, and I hope you can visit soon_.”

“I will,” he promised.

“ _Now call your father, I’m sure he’s quite anxious to hear your voice, too_.”

He was tempted to lie that he already had, but she knew him too well. “I will. Thank you.”

“ _Good night, my dear. Keep safe and sleep well_.”

He ended the call and was about to dial his father, when a sound in the hall sent him twitching back into the chair and his heart was pounding. Only to see Sif emerge into view.

“Hey, sorry, I heard voices, and I thought I should check,” she said.

“No, no, it’s fine. I apologize if I woke you.”

She sat on the opposite arm chair, tucking her long legs up. “No, I was awake. It’s still light outside.”

He chuckled dryly. “It’s the north, Sif.”

“I get that. I didn’t realize how far north.” A bit of a silence fell and she broke it, asking, “Are you doing okay?”

He snorted. “No not really. You saw.” He knew she had been there, but he'd been so out of it, he had only a brief memory of her face between leaving the table to shower and now. He tried to hold his head up, remembering what Frigga had said about it being okay, even though he wanted to crawl in a hole. Cracking under pressure wasn’t exactly the impression he wanted to give to SIf, or anyone. “You seem to be dealing better.”

She shrugged. “It’s not a competition. Besides, you’ll notice I’m awake, too.”

He didn’t think that was the same thing and far less embarrassing besides, but decided he’d prefer not to talk about it anyway. “There are some books in English,” he nodded toward the bookshelves. “If you want. And a computer in the other bedroom.”

She glanced at them but didn’t seem very interested. “Later. I was curious about the farm Margud mentioned.”

The mention of it brought it to mind, and the tightness eased in his chest. “Yes, we have a farm. The family. It’s the oldest crown property in Jotunheim, going back generations.”

Her tone was flat with disbelief. “A farm.”

He smiled. “Even in Viking times, it wasn’t pillaging and looting all the time. The king had to eat, and despite what Thanos told you, it’s never been our way to impoverish the people so the king eats well. So, a farm. It still works as a farm; we grow vegetables and herbs for the table, and keep chickens. If you’d stayed in the palace long enough to eat breakfast, the eggs come from there. I used to collect the eggs when I was little.” He remembered his mother, smiling at him and he’d felt so proud with his basket.

“Oh my God, tiny you in short pants carrying eggs. That sounds so adorable!” Sif exclaimed in delight.

That being the second time in only a few minutes he’d been called ‘adorable’ Loki frowned and wanted to insist he was _not_ adorable. But Sif was smiling, so he let it go. He tipped his head against the high back of the chair, happy to remember those days when his family had been all together, and he’d gone to school like a normal kid. The farm was still ‘home’ in a way the palace had never been. “When this is over, I’ll take you there, so you can see it for yourself,” he offered.

“I’d like that.” She fell silent but then an idea made her smile. “You know what else you’ve offered me that you haven’t delivered on? You promised we would get to dance.”

“I did. And then assassins sort of ruined my plan, sorry about that.”

“Nonsense. There are no assassins here.” She stood up and stalked over to his chair, and held out her hand. “I think we should dance.”

He looked at her hand and then her face to see that she was serious about this. “You want to dance? Now?”

“Sure, why not? I know your foot hurts, and I ache all over, so let’s not do anything super vigorous, but… I want to say ‘fuck you’ to Thanos and assassins ruining our day. Let’s live for right now. That’s what I want. Does that make sense?”

Despite her bold words, there was a bit of uncertainty in her face: a fear that he would reject her offer, or make a fool of her. He inwardly shook his head that someone had made her doubt that much, when he would probably not refuse her anything she wanted. Certainly not a dance. He had promised, after all.

He took her hand in his. “I think that's a splendid idea.” His lower back and legs felt made of one piece of wood, and getting them to move needed her hand to pull him to his feet. He still stumbled, embarrassingly graceless, and had to chuckle. “The rest of me doesn’t agree. I apologize for stepping on your toes in advance.”

“Back still hurt?”

“Strangely, being flung about in a car didn’t help it.” He gingerly stretched and gestured to to the entertainment system. “Shall I find some music?”

She shook her head. “Can we just dance?” she asked more quietly.

Curious, he agreed. They joined hands and he curved his left one around her back, touching her lightly. Her other hand gripped his shoulder, finding one of the bruises from the seatbelt. He flinched at the touch. “Sorry,” she murmured, moving her hand to his outer shoulder. “I have one, too.”

He saw the bruising at the neckline of her t-shirt, matching his, and wished he could kiss it away. She was marked, hurt, because of him, and he hated it, even as he admired her willingness to be involved in this mess.

They didn’t move, standing together. “You’re warm,” she murmured, and he thought that was absurd because he felt so cold. He’d stood under the shower trying to get warm, until the walls had squeezed him, and it hadn’t helped. The chill had lodged inside him, and he doubted it would ever go away. But her hand was warm where it gripped his, and when he laid his other hand flat on her lower back, it was if he was touching the glass doors in front of the fire. He held her in place so he could step closer. The heat from her body helped him as much as the shower had not.

She stayed still, fingers twining with his while her other hand absently smoothed the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder. For no obvious reason, he was suddenly aware of his pulse, thudding in his veins so loudly surely she could hear it.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice sounding strange to himself.

Her eyes looked into his, and he caught his breath on how beautiful she was. She was right there, inches away from him, her breath on his skin, her hands touching him. Right there. This gorgeous, dangerous, amazing woman was _right there_.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, we shall.” But instead of moving her feet into a dance, she leaned forward, tilting her head and lifting her chin, rising up on her bare feet…

_This is not happening. I am dreaming this._

But he wasn’t. Her lips touched his.

* * *

 

tbc... 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, I didn't expect this update to take quite so long! unfortunately updating three stories at a time was just too much for me, but now that Ice Demon and Spider is finished, this is back! It's outlined to the end now, so although it's more WIP than I usually prefer, at least there shouldn't be more long delays. 
> 
> So thank you for your patience! there'll be another chapter next week!

* * *

Oh. 

_Oh._

This was a kiss. She was kissing him. And it was good. Really good, exactly like she had imagined and yet nothing like it, too. Perfect and amazing. Her heart was pounding, and she pushed forward eagerly, lips parting.

His hand was pulling her into him, and her hand on his shoulder crept around his head into the thick mass of his hair, still damp from his shower.

… _more, more, more..._

It was a silent chant in her body, which wanted to feel his… wanted to snuggle up to his strength and feel his heat... wanted to touch his skin and be touched, and not feel alone and afraid.

He caressed her back, shoulder-blades to her waist, long fingers smoothing her hip and side of her leg. She liked that too, and tried to press into the touch, her skin shivering all over.

“Sif…” he murmured against her mouth, and lowered his lips to the side of her neck, seeking out the delicate skin to make her quiver.

He murmured her name again, and that recalled her to herself. That yes, she was Sif, and Sif was supposed to be _protecting_ him, not making out with him. She had told the king she didn’t want this and she wasn’t after this, and yet here she was, doing it anyway. She had seen him in the shower, overwhelmed, and she’d heard him on the phone only a few minutes ago, his voice breaking. She was taking advantage of his unsteady mental state because she wanted to kiss him.

They’d both barely survived an attack on their lives, and while that might make this understandable, it didn’t make it okay.

She pulled away. “Sorry, no, I-- we shouldn’t.”

His hands dropped away from her, so quickly she felt chilled, and he let out an unsteady breath. “I -- I apologize…” he started, as if it was his fault somehow that he was a good kisser and she had gotten carried away.

“You? No, it was all me,” she said hastily, stepping back a pace. “I made a move I shouldn’t have. I was feeling the moment but it was… foolish. I don’t think either of us is in a state we should do anything without thinking.”

“Yes, of course,” he agreed in a neutral tone, looking over her shoulder, not meeting her eyes. She bit her lip, seeing the deliberate blankness in his face.

“I--” she started. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”

He cut her off. “It’s alright. I’m so tired I barely know what I’m doing.” In avoiding her eyes, his wandering gaze caught sight of something and he turned toward the dining room. “Look, they brought our bags.” He strode away to the large black suitcase sitting on the floor next to the sideboard.

She was rather stunned to see Pepper’s case on the table. She wasn’t shocked that someone had brought Loki’s luggage; there was an entire staff devoted to his care after all, but someone had thought to re-pack her things and send them along, too. It made her want to laugh that they’d thought she deserved the extra effort for a bag that didn’t even belong to her.

The sound of his case’s handle extending was sharp and loud and made her jump. “I was about to call my father when you came in, so I’m going to do that, and take something to sleep.” His tone was politely calm, and he rubbed at his eyes, one-handed. “You should try to rest too. We’ll have clearer heads in the morning.”

“Good night,” she wished him. Without replying, he disappeared into the hall, pulling the suitcase after him, and the door to his room shut firmly.

His shortness with her could only mean he was upset, and she wanted to kick herself for ruining things. She could be in that bedroom with him now, and she had no doubt they’d both enjoy themselves. The thought alone was making her knees weak, and she wished she hadn’t stopped. One casual hook-up, stress relief, fun time… that would be all it was. Except she had a feeling Loki didn’t do _anything_ casually, and for both their sakes it was best not to get into something that wouldn’t, couldn’t, last.

No, it was better this way, to stop anything from starting. She owed him her professional skills and her information about the man trying to kill him; a roll in the hay was just cheapening them both and might mislead Loki into believing the wrong things about her. Nor would she prove the king right that all she wanted was to get in Loki’s bed, when that wasn’t what she wanted and not why she was with him.

She’d done the right thing. Loki, once he had some sleep, would be glad he hadn’t done anything so impetuous and stupid as sleep with the woman who’d been hired to kill him and planned to extort money from him. In the morning he’d figure out the king was right that she ought to be in jail, and he certainly shouldn’t be banging her in one of his family’s homes, no matter how fun and enjoyable it might be at the time. She knew that, even if he didn’t. His life was already a mess and she had no right to make it worse with a lapse of good sense.

Trudging back to the guest room, she shut the door and set the case on the table. Tomorrow, she’d unpack it.

Tomorrow, she’d start being _useful_ , rather than tagging along after him like another piece of luggage. She wasn’t here for kissing; she was here to help them attack Thanos. It was time to make good on her promise.

He’d given her that dance, after all; he’d fulfilled his end of the bargain. It was time for her to do the same.

As she fell asleep, it was to the memory of his body near hers and his hand on her back, as her fingers touched the soft skin of his nape and the thick jet hair.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, showered and dressed in the wrap dress she’d found in the case, she padded out into the main room. Margud was getting coffee in the kitchen and offered her a cup, which Sif accepted gratefully.

“Where’s Loki?” she asked curiously, since he was nowhere to be seen.

“Running with Grundroth.” Margud gestured outside. “Around the lake.”

Sif glanced out the open windows but couldn’t see them. She wondered who she felt more sorry for -- Grundroth, a soldier forced to go running on the prince’s whim, or Loki, who just wanted to run, and had to have a bodyguard. The sun glinted off the water of the lake, and the sky reflected nearly perfectly “Looks lovely out there.” She wished she could join them, but only had one pair of heels. Next time she threw herself on a plane, she would take more sensible shoes.

Which reminded her of why she had thrown herself after Loki in the first place and of her decision last night. “I came along to help with the intel of Thanos. And I haven’t done anything. Is there a map or file or something I can start work on?” Sif asked. “I could at least start writing down what i remember.”

Margud looked surprised by the offer, and it occurred to Sif that security thought Sif was around because Loki wanted her there, not because she had anything real to offer. Which was embarrassing, but at least reaffirmed that she’d made the right choice last night of keeping her distance. All of these people reported to the king -- hell, they were probably texting him hourly reports about her and whether she was seducing his son yet -- and she had to prove she was more than that.

So she was ensconced at the kitchen table with a roll and dried fruit for breakfast and a pad of paper when there was a quick thumping up the kitchen steps. The door opened, and let in Loki and Grundroth with a blast of cool outside air. Loki was in running shorts and a sweat-dampened t-shirt, looking tall and lean. His hair was hanging in his face and wanted to curl against his jaw and neck. He seemed in good spirits as he caught his breath, and though he checked a step at the sight of her at the table, his smile seemed easy. “Good morning, Sif. I hope you slept well?”

She was glad he didn’t seem upset with her anymore. “I did, thank you.”

“Good, I’m glad to know that. Excuse me, I should make myself more presentable. Now that Grundroth has finished being mean to me.” He mock glowered at Grundroth, gave a laugh, and headed for his room.

She watched him go. His clothes were sticking to him, giving her a nice view in the back. When she turned, both Grundroth and Margud were looking at her, and the heat rushed to her cheeks at being caught checking him out.

“Um, so I -” She had to clear her throat, gesturing to the paper in front of her, “I’ve been writing down information on Thanos’ place.”

Grundroth approached to look over her shoulder. He said nothing at first, reading what she wrote and examining her sketch of the compound, then he looked to Margud. “Show her the file.” As Margud left to fetch it, he told Sif, “There is a joint task force in preparation. The American group arrives tomorrow for planning the assault.”

“They’re coming here?” she asked, rather amazed.

He shook his head. “No, no, a base on the coast. So your information you have would be good to share.”

“i could share it in person,” she suggested. “It would be better coming from me directly, wouldn’t it? And someone could take me there, I assume?”

“But he….” Grundroth began, frowning in the direction of where they could both hear the water running for the shower.

She knew what he was thinking. “Look, I’m not here to-- to become a princess, okay?” she insisted. “I know that’s what everybody thinks, but that’s not it. I’m trying to help him. And make up for agreeing to murder him.” She grimaced, aware how awful that sounded. But it was true. She dampened her lips with her tongue and had to admit what else she knew. “I mean, I’m not an idiot, I know he has a-- an interest,” she said with difficulty, unsure what he actually had in her. “And I’m not going to lie and say I’m not attracted to him, because obviously.” She made a gesture trying to indicate the whole ‘eyeballs tracing his spine down to the really nice curve at the end’ that Grundroth had just witnessed. “But that’s all there is, and all there’s gonna be. Storybook endings don’t happen to girls like me. I’m a --- I was - a criminal; you know it, and I know it. Nothing is going to wipe that past clean enough, not to be with him. So, let me do the next best thing, and keep him alive for someone else.”

Grundroth’s eyes met hers. Anyone who might have expected him to be a big dumb brute of a man would have to change that opinion as he considered the options. Finally, he nodded once. “Very well, I will recommend that you go to Brekstad to brief the assault mission. The decision is not mine, so you understand.”

Higher authority might not want her there. “Thank you. I’ll write it up, in case they say no. Are you going?”

He didn’t look disappointed as he shook his head once. “No, I stay with the prince.”

“Good. Then I know he’ll be protected.” She thought of the tesseract and how it was going to change the world. It was reassuring that Jane and Erik could finish it without him, but still. She shook her head. “It’s too sad to imagine him not seeing the future his invention is going to create.”

“He will,” Grundroth promised her.

She figured in these uncertain, dangerous days, that was the best she could hope for.

* * *

... tbc... 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of a short one this week, but better than nothing, right? :)

* * *

The pipes clunked as the shower at the other end of the building stopped running. Reminded of what happened last time Loki had taken a shower, she stilled, listening. He’d managed to turn off the water this time, but she didn’t relax until she heard the bathroom door open. 

Realizing he could come out soon and Grundroth might not want to tell the truth in front of Loki, she asked quickly, “Any news on Winter Soldier?”

“One of his men was spotted in a garage last night.”

“So he’s still here.” She grimaced. “I never met him, but his reputation is he won’t stop until the mission is complete. He’ll go to ground, and be patient.” 

That made Grundroth smile, tight and hard. “There is no ground. This is a small country, made angry, and photos of all three of them are on the news now. Every hour boxes them in tighter.” 

“Good. I hope they get him.”

“Someone will. I would like it to be me,” Grundroth said, with a flash of dry humor, “but that would mean he is close. Better someone else.” He gestured outward and made pistol fingers to mime a shot. “Far away.” 

She chuckled. “God willing.”

A sound in the living room made her turn to see Loki emerge, wearing black jeans and a rugby shirt in Jotunheim colors. She was a bit disappointed that none of it was snug. He poured coffee for himself off the sideboard and plopped down in the chair beside hers. “What’s all this?” he asked, scanning her notes. 

“My intel on Thanos’ place. Since that’s why I came.” 

“Oh, yes.” He swept the papers over in front of him. “Let me take a look.” 

She plucked them back. “You’re not going. So it doesn’t matter.” 

Their eyes held, a bit of ‘the prince’ in his glare that she would refuse him like that, and she stared him down. “You’re not going,” she repeated, distinctly. “Grundroth, tell him he’s not going to Belarus.” 

“She is correct, sir. You are not going to Belarus.”

Loki’s gaze didn’t shift from hers, and a slow smirk curled his lips. His fingers were creeping along the table in her peripheral vision, trying to sneak the papers, but she smacked the back of his hand. “Stop it.”

He snatched the papers in a lightning-quick move, shoving his chair at the same time, so when she tried to get them back, she nearly fell to the floor, saving herself with a wild grab of the table. He chortled. “Ha!” He scooted farther away, holding her papers to his far side. He had really long arms, and there was no way she was getting the papers now without tackling him to the floor. It was tempting, but considering last night, probably more flirtatious than she should be.

She sat back in her chair and she heaved a sigh, folding her arms. “Fine. If you’re going to be a five year old about it.” 

“Me? _I’m_ the five year old?” he retorted, offended. “I only want to look,” he reassured her, now that he’d had his fun. “I’m curious. This is the man who wants me dead, after all.” 

That sobered her up. She grimaced, and shoved the page he’d missed over to him. “That’s the compound map. I’m not done yet.”

“You should see the other images,” Loki suggested. “We have satellite pictures.”

“Margud was bringing the file,” Grundroth said and frowned. “She should be here.” 

But before anyone could do more than tense in alarm, she came through the door and handed Loki a FedEx document envelope, with formal-sounding apologies, that he brushed away in a tone of ‘no problem’, though Sif didn’t understand the exact words. 

“Mail delivery, nice,” Sif teased. 

He glanced at the front of the envelope and smiled at Sif. “Tony. I bet it’s your passport.” He tore the envelope open and sure enough a small blue book was first to slide out which he handed to her. 

Reflexively she opened it to make sure it was hers, which it was. “I’m not going to ask how he got it out of my safe in my apartment,” she said dryly. 

“Probably best,” he agreed, but absently as he scanned the top page of a small stack of papers that had been in there, too. He frowned and his lips twisted wryly at whatever it said. Shuffling through the other sheets, he didn’t say anything, and she grew more worried as his silence lingered.

“Is there something wrong?” she prompted. “The project?”

He started, as if her voice roused him from distant thoughts, and he made a smile at her. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s for you, actually.” He handed her the small packet of papers.

She took it, curious, and scanned the top page which held a hand-written note from Tony Stark. “Hey L, turns out Jarvis can access CIA personnel files. Should I tell them their encryption could be cracked by a preschooler? Since I had the passport already, I inserted a new file, retroactively dated and buried. Undercover CIA agent is better than assassin-for-hire, right? Shady, but shady on the side of the angels.”

She lifted her head, shocked, and rifled through the other papers. They were copies of fictional employment contracts she’d never seen before, in her name. To cover up what she’d actually done.

It was clear Tony had done it as a favor to Loki, creating a paper trail to change her background. He had committed a felony to do this, hacking the CIA. Her mouth opened and nothing came out until she managed, “Why? He could go to jail for this, and he doesn’t even know me.” 

“But he knows me,” Loki answered. 

She shook her head, still not believing this. “But why would he do this for you?” She made a face, realizing how that sounded. “I mean, for anyone? This is a lot to do for a friend.” 

He leaned back in his chair. “Tony and I have been friends a long time,” he explained. “I wrote him when I was fifteen on official stationery to tell him the StarkBox was shit.” He grinned in reminiscence. “He still has that letter. He called me after, and we’ve been friends since. He went through a lot of the same things I did, trying to juggle science and family obligation. Of course Father wasn’t happy because Tony’s answer was basically to screw obligation, but there weren’t many people who encouraged my interest in physics. So Tony’s support meant -- and means -- a lot to me.”

“Still.” But more protest would sound like complaining and she didn’t want to do that. She looked down at the papers. “But they’re gonna know nobody hired me, aren’t they? I’ve never even _been_ to Langley.” 

He shrugged. “Tony has connections there, to make it stick for the people who count, and then, once you’re acknowledged as an employee, you can leverage that into getting an acceptable cover job to use in the real world.” His eye fell on her passport. “I haven’t forgotten the warrant on you. When I’m back in the capital, I can work on lifting that. Then you can travel wherever you want again.”

She frowned at him and shook her head. “But I-- this is so much trouble. I don’t deserve to have it all wiped away.” 

His lips parted as if to object, but he hesitated, bit his lower lip, and reminded her, in a level voice, “That was our agreement, as I recall. So I’ll let you fulfill your part,” he gestured to her Thanos report. “I need to talk to Tony.” 

He walked away, and she didn’t think the coolness was her imagination. His saying they had an ‘agreement’ -- even though they had no such thing, since she had rejected his offer and come on the plane without an expectation of any return -- was to put more distance between them. 

Last night had been a cautionary tale for him, too; they’d gotten too close and been burned, and he was backing off. She couldn’t blame him for that, since she’d been the one to push back first, but the sudden chill was acute like a cold knot in her chest.

If he felt same loss, he gave no indication of it, but he was the one who had played her for weeks so maybe he did and just wasn’t showing it. It wasn’t fair to hope so, but she did. 

She dampend her dry lips and called after him, “Tell Tony thank you. That’s…not enough for doing this, but tell him? I owe him.” 

He glanced back over his shoulder and nodded, before heading toward his room.

Looking through the papers of her new history again, she blew out a breath. She definitely owed Tony for this. And she owed Loki for being the reason Tony was doing this, since he was doing it as a favor to his friend, not to her. 

It felt like a tremendous burden, a weight coming down on her shoulders, and for a second she was seized by the desire to take the fake papers and tear them up. But she didn’t. The damage was already done, and it was now on her to do her part. 

She looked up at Margud. “You have the file? Let’s get to work.” 

* * * 

... tbc.


	17. Chapter 17

When Sif heard the muffled sound of Loki’s voice, she wondered who he was talking to. It was three in the morning in New York, and hopefully nobody there was still awake. But whoever it was, his voice was more animated, and then she heard him laugh with real amusement, a sound that made her smile, glad that someone was getting him to relax.

She wondered if he was talking about her, but when she realized she was staring blankly at the papers because she was trying so hard to listen to what little was carrying through the house, she gave herself a mental slap and re-focused on the file in front of her.

Some of it was written in their language, so she couldn’t read it, but the pictures were easy to understand and some of the reports were in English, from American and other agencies. Soon there were small piles of notes and and pictures and maps strewn all across the large wooden table. Margud left to relieve someone at the radio, but Grundroth stayed, to look over her intel with an intensity of someone who had been on the sort of operation that was planned.

She should have known, when Grundroth stood up, but she was busy labeling buildings on a copy of a high altitude image of Thanos’ compound so the sound of Loki’s voice nearly made her jump out of her skin.

“How is it going?” Loki asked.

She glanced up at him, and he was faintly smirking at how much she’d jumped. “Good,” she answered, giving him a smile and a gesture at the scattered sheets before her. “I’m filling in some blanks on the map right now. And I drew a map of the interior as much I saw. Enough that hopefully Grundroth can get me the okay to brief the strike team, since it looks like they have no intel on the inside.”

“The strike team? At Brekstad?” Loki blinked and glanced from her to Grundroth and back, astonished. “You’re _going_?”

“Not with them.” But the idea seemed something to consider. “Maybe?” she asked Grundroth. “Tell them, I volunteer to go with the team, and I’ll tell them in person as well. I know I’m not military, but I can handle myself. But in any case, it makes more sense to brief the team in person.”

“But,” Loki’s brow wrinkled and his jaw worked with a desire to say something to her, probably an objection. Then he looked away, until he found his composure again, looking at Grundroth to demand, “Then I’m going, too.”

Calmly, Grundroth answered, “My orders prevent that, sir. I am charged with keeping you safe.”

“Brekstad is an army base! How is that any less safe than here? We were already going to move tomorrow, you said so, because remaining in one place too long is risk. So why not go to Brekstad?”

Sif frowned at the news that they would’ve moved locations tomorrow anyway, as this was the first she’d heard of it. Perhaps she hadn’t been intended to come with them.

Grundroth answered, “Because that is where the strike team is assembling, and I know Prince Thor is with the Asgardian unit. I will not risk you involving yourself with his reckless choices.”

Sif recalled what Volstagg had said about the trouble the two princes had got up to together - though after hearing about Tony, she wondered how much of it could really be blamed on other people rather than Loki himself -- and apparently Grundroth knew the same.

Loki read into it as well and his temper snapped. He slammed his palms on the table, making Sif jump. “I’m not going, all right? I am not stupid. For fuck’s sake, I know I freaked out in the shower like a child, so I’m not going to- to join the strike team in disguise, or whatever you think I’m going to do. I only want to meet the people who -- who might die for me!” In his ragged voice, as he panted for breath, she heard the same guilt she’d heard at the palace, and winced inwardly, imagining how hard he was going to take Vornir’s death. She just wanted to wipe that upset look off his face. It wasn’t fair or right, that he should be so distressed over something that was someone else’s fault.

She reached out toward him, shaking her head. “It’s not for you, Loki,” she reassured him. “It’s to take down Thanos.”

“Who is only a problem because of me,” he returned, not persuaded. “Those people in New York died because they were collateral damage from an attack on me. And if I can’t go myself, at the very least I can talk to the people trying to go in my place. Do you understand that?” he appealed to them both, eyes turning last to Grundroth.

Grundroth spoke to him with careful propriety, “I understand, Your Highness. And your intent is an honorable one. But you remain a target. To keep you safe, we are to move to the residence in Bryggen tomorrow.”

“But I don’t want to go to Bryggen!” he exclaimed, and then grimaced, hearing himself. “Well, that didn’t sound like a whiny teenager at all.” He cleared his throat and let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping in resignation as he shook his head. In a calmer tone, he took it all back with an attempt at gracious acceptance, “I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to do your job, and I appreciate it. I’ll do what you think best.” He combed his fingers through his hair in a restless gesture. His other hand was still clenched to a fist at his side. “I need to get my mind back on my work. This is all for nothing if I can’t get the tesseract to open safely.”

He turned and went into the spare bedroom where the computer was, shutting the door behind him. Though she heard nothing, she would not have been surprised to hear him yell or throw something at the wall, since he seemed tense with frustration.

Sif looked at Grundroth, and asked quietly, “Are you sure he can’t go to the base? Is it so dangerous? A bit of control over his own life might help him feel better. Less helpless.”

He nodded slowly, brow creasing in worry as he glanced in Loki’s direction. “I will ask. And point out the base is better defended than the residence.” He gave her a nod and headed for the door to the outside to talk to his superiors, and possibly the king himself.

She glanced at Loki’s door, worrying at her lip. Should she go to him? Was that inappropriate at this point, or were they friends and she should? Maybe he needed the distraction of his work, and to think of other things?

But no, it bothered her that he seemed to think his mental hiccup meant he was somehow weak. Because he wasn’t, and he needed to know that, while they were still in the middle of this, especially if she was going away from him. At least she could try to help first.

She knocked on the door. At his call from within, she cracked it open. “Can I come in for a minute?”

The room itself was the mirror-image of her bedroom, deliberately rustic in decor but comfortable in warm wood and what looked like a hand-made quilt on the bed, with only the desk and its computer being different. Since they hadn’t needed the bedroom for another child, it had become a basic guest room and a study for Loki.

On the walls, among some gorgeous scenic pictures of fjords and northern lights, there were two smaller framed black and white photos of a group of men dressed for winter, on skis, holding rifles, presumably from when the Nazis had invaded.

Loki turned in his swivel chair from the computer, and was about to get up for her, so she gestured him to stay there and she sat on the end of the bed to face him. “I just wanted to talk,” she said. Behind him, the screen was a generic desktop, so either he’d shut whatever he was working on or hadn’t started anything yet.

His expression had nothing but polite interest. She kinda wanted to smack it off his face. He asked, “Oh? About what?”

“About you. About how you seem to believe that having a traumatic reaction in the shower was some kind of moral failing.”

He smiled, quick and bright, showing a lot of teeth. “No, of course not. I know that.”

“Really? Because that’s not what you said. And I don’t want you to think that you’re some kind of,” she hesitated and then just said it, straight out, “coward. Because you’re not.”

He stood up, abruptly, and went to the window. She’d definitely touched a nerve. Not facing her, he said, “Do you know, my grandfather was in the Resistance against the Nazis? He didn’t flee to exile; he stayed. He hid in tents and caves in the mountains for three years, and he fought them.”

He didn’t say it aloud, but she knew the silent corollary: _and I freak out in the shower after one attack_.

She let out a soft sigh. “He sounds very brave. But do you know what’s also brave? Challenging a man like Arakady Thanos. Going ahead with your plan to help the entire world, even when there are people who want you dead.”

By the set of his shoulders, that wasn’t getting her very far, so she changed tactics. “Look, didn’t I plan to run away? Wasn’t I afraid of him?” she asked, but didn’t let him answer. “I was terrified of him. I still am, really. But you know what made me change my mind and want to help? You. Because you stood up and you were determined, and you made me believe we could bring him down.” He still didn’t turn to look at her, but his back and shoulders seemed less rigid, as if he might be taking her words to heart. She stood up. “So don’t let one moment of being overcome make you think you don’t have courage. You’re fighting, too, just in a different place and a different way. And maybe your legacy won’t be killing people, even for a good cause, but something _better_.” He turned slowly, and wasn’t meeting her eyes, but he seemed less taut. She smiled and gestured toward the old photos. One of the soldiers there was probably the former king of Jotunheim, but she couldn’t tell which one. “I bet your grandfather is looking down on you right now and he’s so proud of you, Loki. Hell, he’s probably making a nuisance of himself up there in heaven, telling everybody ‘that there’s my grandson!’” She let her voice go all Southern on the last part, to draw a smile from Loki.

Which she got, a reluctantly amused curl of his lips, at the unlikely accent. Satisfied that she got a smile at all, she headed for the door. Her hand was on the knob before he said, “Sif? Thank you.”

“Any time.” She slipped out the door and returned to her own task, hoping her words would sink in.

Out in the dining room, she went back to her task, broken by Grundroth returning.

“It took some talk,” he told her, “but you and he are cleared for Brekstad. And there, you can ask the strike team commanders about going with them.”

That seems reasonable, and she nodded. “Thank you,” she said and truly meant it. “I appreciate it, for me and for him.”

He nodded his head to her in polite acknowledgment, much as he did to Loki. “We leave in the morning.”

“Early?” she asked, hoping the opposite.

Grundroth looked meaningfully at the spare bedroom. “When he wishes to leave, we leave.”

She chuckled. “Right. Of course.”

Grundroth left her to tell Loki the new plan, and she looked down at the map of Thanos’ compound ‘Sanctuary’. It was a beautiful, large mansion surrounded by grounds, and outbuildings, and a high wall patrolled by his mercs. Inside, Thanos lurked like a spider in the web, when he wasn’t arranging deals and sending assassins after people he found inconvenient.

 _I'm taking you down, Arkady_. She rubbed at her leg where the scab was starting to itch, and the ache in her upper body was a reminder of what happened to the car.

He wasn’t going to get away with it. And if she went, there’d be no weaksauce ‘capture alive’ business. They were soldiers, she was an assassin, and in her final mission as an assassin, she’d remove him herself, if she had to.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Loki wanted to be glad that he’d got his own way and was going to the base. Everything he’d said about wanting to meet the men going on this strike team was true, even if the cowardly part of him said that it would be easier not to meet them, so they’d be only a name if they died. 

But that wasn’t the whole truth. Besides the more noble motive, he wanted to go because Sif was going. She’d made her intent clear, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet, if he didn’t have to. He had a feeling if she left, she would be gone from his life. Their paths had crossed by strange fate, two people who would otherwise have never met at all, and it seemed unlikely they would meet again, once she had a new life. 

Emotions grumbled about that, that he should’ve made that new life conditional on staying, and if she was leaving, he should take it away. But he knew that was disappointment and hurt feelings talking, and not fair to her. It wasn’t as if she’d promised anything besides not killing him. If she didn’t want to be with him, then she didn’t. There was nothing he could do about that. But he still needed to repay saving his life, so he would give her a new past and let her go to her own life.

He glanced aside to look at her, as she watched the mountains pass beneath them as they headed for Brekstad on the coast. She sensed his gaze on her and turned her head, shouting over the noise of the rotors, “It’s so beautiful!” Grinning, she waved her hand toward the window and the view outside.

It was; he would never deny that. Mountains, ice, forest, sea, sky… there was no part of his homeland that he didn’t find beautiful. But looking at her face, a lock of her dark hair curling against that long neck, her eyes all aglow as she turned back to the window, she outshone all of it. His lips parted to tell her so, but he turned away instead, toward his own window to stare blindly at the scenery. 

Thinking of her leaving made him ache inside. The irony was too sharp besides: most women he’d known had only wanted him because of his title, and now he’d met one who didn’t want him because of it. 

But she was right to keep her distance. This crush of his was nothing more than emotions and hormones spinning out of control because he’d been plunged into this world of violence, and she was an oasis of calm in the chaos. Analytically it all made sense. It was time to put it away, file it as part of this strange interlude in his life, and get back to what he did best, which was use his brain and solve science problems. 

There would be time for romance later, when the tesseract was built and no one was trying to kill him.

* * *

The helicopter crested the hill, and the sea appeared, spread out to the horizon and the dark cloud bank far off shore. Immediately the sight of the water loosened a knot in his chest. Many of his best memories involved the water-- sailing with his parents and later with Thor’s family, and the trip he and Thor had taken. In fact, it had been a boat from this base that had tipped him that he and Thor were being shadowed on that trip. 

As Margud pulled the helicopter around, the base came into view. It was a sprawling place with a long airstrip and charmless, square Cold War-era buildings set around open spaces, paths, and sparse trees, scattered down the shallow slope to the port and its buildings. He’d only visited a few times, accompanying his father on formal review. The thought hit him that sooner, rather than later, it would be him, alone. What if Thanos had targeted his father instead and succeeded? 

The idea made him feel queasy and he tried to focus on the base itself. There seemed a lot of activity, more than the base usually saw in these post-Cold War days, with two large US military cargo planes squatting like hippos on the tarmac, accompanied by a squadron of fighter planes. 

But the Americans were not what made him inhale a deep breath to get himself together and put on his public face as the helicopter headed for a landing in the open grass not far from the command building. 

“Wait until I open the door,” Grundroth said. 

“I know,” he replied and he waited as Margud powered down the blades. 

The helicopter began to gather attention, as word started to spread, it looked like. He saw one group doing exercises all stop and double-time across the strip and form up to greet him. 

Which was both familiar -- formal acknowledgment happened at formal events -- but also touching, because they obviously weren’t scheduled to do it, wearing their exercise clothes. 

But even more of a surprise, he saw Maxine with a couple of other people emerge from the main building and head toward the helicopter as well. And since Maxine was his father’s assistant, she was not usually where he was not. But when he glanced at the flag on the roof of the admin building, it was not the royal standard, so he was not present, at least not officially.

Before he greeted anyone though, he offered his hand to help Sif out of the helicopter. The touch of her hand sent a shiver up his arm, and he remembered their kiss. He kept himself from reacting by force of will. “I have to meet-and-greet, it looks like.” 

Sif was looking at the small group of soldiers, most or all of them doing their national service probably, with an expression he couldn’t interpret as she smiled at him. “Of course. Your job, I get it.” She stepped aside to let him proceed, and he was glad that Margud gestured for Sif to follow her, around the line up. 

Grundroth paced behind him as he went down the line to shake hands with all the men and women. None of these would be going on the strike team, they just happened to be stationed here, but he still greeted them and thanked them for their service to Jotunheim. A few were enthusiastically glad he was alive and well, which was warming. Last in the row was the base commander and his staff, who Loki at least recalled from his last visit. 

One of the people with Maxine was taking pictures of him. But he remembered instructions from handlers long ago, including Maxine herself, and he ignored the photographer, to keep his attention on each person before him.

Finally, greetings concluded and the soldiers dismissed, he could greet Maxine. She smiled broadly at him. “Oh, it is so good to see you!” she exclaimed and kissed his cheek, before taking out her phone and snapping a photo. “I’ll send this to your father, so he believes us when we tell him you’re unhurt.” 

“He’s not here, then?”

“No, once you were coming here, he could not. Guard wouldn’t allow it,” she glanced at Grundroth. 

“No. Not right now,” Grundroth agreed. “We should go inside.” 

“Sir, if you’ll come this way, I thought you might want to have a moment and refreshments before I escort you to the admin building to meet the Americans,” the base commander explained, ushering Loki into a lounge area off the hall which ended in the operations room for the airfield. 

“Yes, thank you. Helicopters are convenient, but I don’t think I’ve stopped vibrating yet,” Loki jested lightly. An aide took drink requests and offered a tray, his hand tremblling, so Loki smiled and took two biscuits even though he wasn’t sure his stomach was settled enough to eat anything. 

Maxine introduced her photographer to Loki, and she explained, “The photos are for release for the news tonight.”

“Absolutely not,” Grundroth refused, without hesitation.

“There are rumors that His Highness was hurt or killed, we need to show the country he’s well,” she countered. 

“The rumors are not my concern,” Grundroth said. “His actual life is. And I will not agree to any plan which publicly reveals his location.”

Loki, who was feeling quite ignored by then, cut in, “Do I get a say?” 

They both turned to him and said in unison, “No.” 

He raised both hands and retreated toward Sif, while his two minders argued. Sif chuckled and tesased him, “The glamorous life, hm?”

“They’re arguing over whether to put my picture on the evening news, so I suppose so,” he answered wryly. “But Maxine will get her way, because she’s ordered Father and me around for most of my life.” In a louder voice meant to carry, he added, “She should marry Father and make it official.” 

Maxine heard and turned her head toward him, “And have someone else tell me what to do, sir? Why would I trade what I have for that?” 

“Tyrant,” he retorted, but without heat, and she smiled, knowing he didn’t mean it. Except he kind of did. So many people had been pushing him around lately. The only thing keeping him from storming out was the knowledge they were doing it for him, which didn’t make any of it less frustrating.

He twitched when Sit’s hand touched his arm. He glanced at her curiously. “Relax,” she murmured. “You’re going to strain something.”

He realized his jaw was clenched and he inhaled a deliberate breath, and let it out slowly, trying to push out the tension that, she was right, was gripping his shoulders and neck. When she took her hand away, he wished she’d put it back since it gave him something to focus on. But he said, “Thank you. It wouldn’t do to start throwing a tantrum, even when I really want to.” 

Her eyes were sympathetic, and she ignored his joking tone, as she nodded someberly, “This situation isn’t easy to deal with, so I think you’re entitled to some frustration and anxiety. But hang in there, once Arkady is taken down, at least the big money is out of the game and the little players will see it’s not worth it.” 

“I sure hope so,” he said. He was going to say more except the door slammed open, crashing against the wall behind it. He flinched back from the sudden noise, and Grundroth and Sif both lurched in his direction, trying to put themselves in the way. 

But it was no one to worry about - not there should have been on the base anyway, but was a measure of how tightly wound they all were - as Thor strode in. 

“Loki!” he boomed in that voice of his when he got excited. In two steps, he was across the floor, and seized Loki in a bear hug. “My brother! You’re here!”

Loki patted his back. “Thor, good to see you.” 

Thor pulled back, but kept a hand on Loki’s shoulder to look into his face. “You’re all right? I know you said so, but I know you also wouldn’t want us to worry…”

“I’m fine. Bruised, but that’s all.” 

“That is a miracle! So sad about your driver, but what a hero, to pull that manuever in the street.”

“My driver?” Loki repeated, frowning. “Vornir?”

But Sif stepped in to introduce herself, making Loki chagrined that he’d neglected to do it first, “Sif Rowan. And you are Prince Thor, of course.” She held out a hand and then pulled it back. “Am I allowed to shake hands? This is all so strange for me, being American, I’m sorry if my manners--”

Thor interrupted and engulfed her hand in his much larger one, “No need, Sif -- if I might call you Sif? I have heard so much about you, it is good to meet you finally.” 

“You, also.” She was smiling at him, her eyes fixed on Thor’s very blue ones, and Loki remembered the girls who had so frequently been found sitting on his lap or scurrying out of his room. They just couldn’t resist him. 

Loki cleared his throat. “So I heard you’re here with the Asgardian unit. But surely your father isn’t allowing you to go with the strike team?”

Thor chuckled. “He didn’t like it, no of course not, but he couldn’t deny that my military service had to be good for something.” Loki found himself gaping at that news, and Thor’s chuckle grew to a laugh. “Ah, I told you, you shouldn’t have skipped yours by going to university!” 

“As if that would make a difference. You learned to fly a helicopter, which is hardly commando skills. Absurd. What if you get killed?”

Thor shook his head. “Almost exactly what Mother said.” 

“Because she’s the only one with any sense in your family!”

“The car racing was your idea,” Thor retorted, which was massively unfair when the thirty other things Loki had gotten yelled at were completely Thor’s fault. But Thor laughed and slung an arm over Loki’s shoulder, rather heedless of Loki’s bruises. “I need to talk to you about something.” He glanced at Sif. “Excuse us, please, Sif. This will be just a moment.” 

Loki waved apologetically at her as Thor dragged him outside. Away from the buiding, Thor stopped. “What are we doing?” Loki asked and glanced around uneasily, not liking how in the open he was. “Grundroth is going to have a fit in thirty seconds, so you better hurry up.” 

Thor turned to him and said in a lower voice, “It’s a secret. But you should also know, one of the results of our discussion about my going is Father decided, if I get killed, he is going to designate you his new heir.”

Loki’s entire being seemed to freeze in such utter incredulity. He was imagining this, he must be. But no, Thor was looking at him with an amused expectation for his reaction. Loki folded his arms and glowered. “That’s a bad joke. And I do not find it funny.” 

Too bad Thor did, smile irrepressible. “It’s not a joke.” 

“It is.” But Thor was too earnest for it to be still a joke, and Loki had to entertain the notion that this was real. “Is he out of his damned mind? He knows I don’t want my own, and he wants to give me his as well?”

“Only if I’m dead,” Thor countered, with far too much levity, especially as he laughed at Loki’s face. His free hand ruffled the top of Loki’s head and his expression grew more somber. “You’re my little brother. Not by blood, but you know we all think of you that way.”

“But-- but there are other heirs,” Loki protested faintly. 

Thor shrugged with a very worrying lack of care. “You’re about to change the world, do you really think people will complain?”

“Of course they will, Thor, don’t be an idiot!” 

Thor laughed. “See, that’s why it should be you. You’ll be brilliant.” Thor slapped him on the back. “Cheer up. I have no intention of letting it happen.” 

Loki rolled his eyes and muttered, “The world has gone mad. Or I have. Please don’t get killed in Belarus,” he implored Thor. “This is a terrible idea.”

But no, Thor wasn’t finished offering terrible ideas. 

“You could come, too….” Thor suggested. “You have parachute experience.”

Stirred out of his thoughts, Loki stared at him. “What? No. I couldn’t. No one will let me, even if I thought I could.”

Thor frowned. “Of course you can.”

But Loki was already shaking his head. “No, no, I am not made for people shooting at me. Hell, you missed how I jumped when you slammed the door.” 

Thor snorted. “You drove Formula One. You can do this.”

“Not the same.”

Thor waved it away. “Same enough. You’re rattled, I get that, after that attack on your car, but isn’t it better to go after the thug who did this to you, than sit here and wait, expecting assassins around every corner?” he asked. 

“Well, yes,” Loki agreed. “That would be better. But still, I don’t want to be a distraction or make everyone cover for me.” _Especially while I cower in the corner_ , he thought, but bit his lip so he wouldn't say it aloud. Bad enough Thor knew he was jumpy, when Thor had never spent a single moment of his entire life scared of anything, but telling Thor how wrecked he was, was out of the question.

Thor made a disappointed face, as if he’d thought Loki would actually go on this hare-brained quest with him. “You don’t have to jump,” Thor pointed out. “You could come on the plane.” 

That seemed more possible. He could probably finagle a way on to the plane. His guard would be glad he was out of the assassin’s reach on a military plane, and Maxine would be able to do some PR that he was going with the mission. How dangerous could it be to ride on the plane? 

“I’m sure our soldiers would feel encouraged if you were along,” Thor suggested, and Loki narrowed his eyes at that blatant manipulation. 

“Your bait needs work,” Loki told him.

“But I’m right,” Thor said, unrepentant. “Your people especially. They’re fired up, but if you went with us? Thanos won’t last the day. I’m sure of it.” 

“You are a terrible influence,” Loki muttered, but didn’t argue. Because Thor was right; it was, in fact, basically their _jobs_ to be encouraging symbols of the homeland. As much as Loki might want to do nothing but science, he knew those days were behind him now. It was hard to be an encouraging symbol of the homeland isolated at the lodge, but not when he was being daring and joining the strike team against his enemy. Sif was right; he needed to stop letting fear rule him.

But first he wanted to find out whether Sif had any parachuting experience, because that would probably determine whether she would be going at all, and if she was staying behind, he would, too. 

“All right, fine.” Loki heaved a put-upon sigh because Thor deserved it. “I can’t let you go without me, can I? I’d never hear the end of it. And if they say no, surely you and I can figure a way to get me on the plane anyway.” 

Thor’s bright smile made him feel better about the plan immediately. He slapped Loki in the shoulder with his enthusiasm. “Just like old days!” 

Loki’s conscience whispered that this wasn’t meant to be _fun_ , this was deadly serious business, and his getting in the middle of it was like someone standing in the middle of the tesseract chamber at activation. It could be dangerous, not just to himself, but to the people around him. 

But he was tired of being passive in his own safety, and it was time to act.

* * *

tbc...


	19. Chapter 19

Sif was amused when Grundroth visibly checked himself from following the princes outside and went back to arguing with Maxine about photos. But she knew he was going to lose that one, because she was hellbent on a picture on the evening news. Finally they seemed to come to some kind of compromise and as Maxine instructed the photographer, Grundroth headed for the door. 

At that moment, Loki and Thor came back in, both of them jovial, and Loki wasted no time in declaring his intent to move the party to the admin building and meet the others. 

She was surprised when he chose to walk beside her, instead of with Thor or the military officers. “Did Thor give you good news? You seem in a better mood?” she asked. 

He wrinkled his nose. “Well, not really _good_ news, no, but his mood is infectious.” 

Maxine approached them and added, “I have news, sir. Not good news either, but you should be aware that Thanos has increased his offer to five million US.” 

“Five million?” Loki repeated and gave a short laugh. “I should bump myself off for that.” 

She chuckled and nudged him with her elbow. “Not funny.” 

He looked at her and joked, smiling, “Sure you’re not tempted?”

"Of course not!” she objected, meaning it, and then retorted, “Unless you’re especially annoying.” 

“Then I’ll have to be on my best behavior.” 

She scoffed and looked heavenward. ‘best behavior’. As if that was going to happen. 

There was no time for further teasing, as they arrived at the admin building, and two uniformed soldiers pulled the doors open and saluted as Loki and the officers went in. 

They ended up in a cavernous planning space with a long oval conference table spread with information, computers and other equipment on side tables, and a poster of the satellite image of Thanos’ compound and surrounding terrain maps pinned to the inner wall. 

Several people were there, nearly all in military fatigues of various dull shades of olive and tan, but the two who moved away from the table to be introduced were pretty impressive. There was an older, dark-skinned man, with a shaved head and an eye patch, and a younger man, tall and fair, but despite his youth, his blue eyes held a hardness of experience. 

Maxine introduced them, “Your Highness, may I present Colonel Fury, who is the commanding officer of this combined taskforce, and Captain Rogers, who will lead the strike team. Gentlemen, His Highness, Doctor Loki Laufeyson.” 

Both saluted, and Loki flashed a smile and held out his hand. “Please. I’m not a head of state. I’m glad to meet you.”

Curiously another man lingering behind, who was balding and wore a black suit not fatigues, was looking at her, not at Loki. She eyed him back, wondering who he was and what he wanted with her. Was he FBI or Interpol? Was she about to be arrested? Surely they wouldn’t do that, with Loki right there?

Colonel Fury gestured that man forward. “This is Phil Coulson, assistant deputy director, CIA.”

Coulson shook Loki’s hand. “Arkady Thanos has been on our radar for years,” he said. “I’m sorry we didn’t get him before it came to this. And.” He paused and his eyes slid to her again. “I suppose this is my cue to bring my agent in from the cold. Ms. Rowan, welcome home.” 

He extended his hand to her and for a moment, she stared, in blank incomprehension, before all the wheels clicked. Tony. This was Tony’s doing. The papers. The connections that Loki had mentioned. 

That was why Coulson’s mouth looked tight with distaste that he was supporting this lie, even as Loki’s glimmered with a smile not quite repressed that his plan was working.

But this was her chance, so she seized it. Laughing a little in relief, she clasped his hand. “Oh, thank God. Sir. It’s good to be back.”

He looked briefly taken aback by the enthusiasm of her playacting, but shook her hand anyway. 

“Wait, are you telling me, she’s one of yours, Phil?” the colonel demanded. 

Before Coulson could speak, she nodded and gave the obvious explanation, even if it was something she made up, “I was in deep undercover to infiltrate Thanos’ operation. You know, one of those, ‘the agency will disavow all knowledge if you’re caught’ kind of missions. But I was glad to do it, since Arkady Thanos is a terrible person. I’m still willing to do whatever I can to take him down.” She said that straight to Coulson, hoping he’d get the message that she meant it. 

He must have because he played along, grimacing, “And then you blew your cover, rather spectacularly.” 

She chuckled and gave a sheepish shrug. “Well, I could hardly let Loki get assassinated, could I? That didn’t seem right.”

“Indeed not,” Loki agreed, with feeling, interceding in the conversation to re-direct it. “And I am grateful to everything Sif, and all of you,” he gestured, encircling everyone in the room, “have done and will do, on my behalf.”

Sif watched as the gathered men responded to him, some with an obvious pride, and she smiled to herself. The title might not come with much power in this modern age, but it certainly wasn’t powerless, not for his own people at least. Even the Americans weren’t immune to it, with only a few sullenly resisting his charm offensive.

He was different here, among the people he was meant to lead, and she was intrigued by the change. Similar to when he’d danced with her in Stuttgart, this must be his persona of ‘the prince’, a part he played when he was in public and needed to be charming and confident. She preferred the man who’d admitted he felt he was disappointing his family, but he was pretty attractive asserting himself and taking command.

“No offense,” Fury said, in a voice so gruff it edged on rude anyway and pulled her gaze away from Loki, “but it’s not just for you. He’s a terrorist and a war lord, and like Coulson said, we’ve been looking at him for awhile now. If everyone would take their seats?” 

Fury remained standing at the head of the table, while Rogers sat at his left. Loki sat across from Thor, roughly the middle of the long side of the table, and at Loki’s gesture, she sat beside him. When Thor smiled at that, Loki flicked a rolled up bit of paper at him. All it did was make Thor’s smile broader when it fell short. 

Fury’s single eye glared at Sif. “You were inside, correct?”

Focusing back on the matter at hand, she nodded. This part she could tell them with complete honesty. “Yes, Colonel. I was blindfolded on the way, but once I was inside, I was there for about 48 hours. There were parts off-limits, but I was allowed to roam freely otherwise.” She gestured vaguely at Grundroth. “They have the intel I started to sketch out, but I thought a verbal briefing and Q&A would be a more productive use of our time.” 

“Yes, we’ll get to that,” Fury said. He ordered one of his men to get the intel and copy it. Then he put his hands behind his back to address Loki. “You may not have heard, your country broke off diplomatic relations with Belarus.” 

He turned to Maxine. “Did Father tear up the ambassador’s credential?” At her nod his smile turned eager. “Oh, please tell me there’s a video.”

“Oh, yes, sir. I’ll get it for you. He enjoyed it,” she answered with a grim amusement and explained to Sif, “Belarus refused to take action against Thanos. We can’t declare war on them without activating treaties, but we can sever diplomatic relations. So we threw them out.”

Sif snorted. “They can’t do anything against Thanos. President Ronan’s so far up Thanos’--” she stopped and switched what she was going to say, “in Thanos’ pocket he knows he’s finished, if Thanos goes down.” 

Fury agreed, “Yes. And that goes for most of his administration and the military, too. So their army will support Thanos. But, good news is,” Fury glanced at Coulson, “Poland gave us permission to let us cross their airspace to get there.”

Coulson nodded. “They’re not too happy with their neighbors or the corruption leaking across the border.”

“So we’re a go for a strike team drop,” Fury said. 

“I’d like to join the mission, Colonel,” Sif volunteered. “My experience on the ground can help direct your men, and yes, I do have weapons and parachute experience.” 

At her side Loki went still at her request, and she thought for a moment he might protest, but he said nothing.

Fury gave her the courtesy of not rejecting the idea out of hand, looking to Coulson for his opinion. Coulson frowned at her, and finally answered, “It’s not unheard of for one of ours to join a strike team. And I think Ms Rowan’s knowledge, and personal motivation in the mission, would make her an asset.”

She smiled at him, pleased by the assessment. Of course, he could be trying to get her killed so she’d stop being his problem, but at least he’d called her an asset.

“Your decision then, Captain,” Fury passed it off to Rogers.

“I’d like to assess your skills more directly,” Rogers told her bluntly. “Though I suppose…” he glanced at Thor and added, “You wouldn’t be the only one with us, who’s not trained as part of our team.”

That almost made Sif laugh, hearing the undercurrent of ‘what is this, goddamned amateur hour’ but he didn’t say it aloud. 

“I appreciate the chance,” she told him with a nod. 

Next to her, Loki straightened, “And for your planning, Colonel, you should know that I will be on the transport. I won’t jump,’ he said that with a flicker of his eyes at Thor, who looked disappointed, “but I’ll ride along on the plane. In support of my people.” 

That put the cat among the pigeons, and Sif buried a snicker, watching both Maxine and Grundroth stiffen and their mouths open to refuse, before they realized they couldn’t undercut Loki like that in front of everyone else. So, it was a well-played maneuver that none of his minders could counter. Grundroth glowered at Thor, blaming him for this switch. Meanwhile, Maxine took out her phone and started texting someone, probably the king, about these new developments. 

Stiffly, jaw-clenched, Grundroth declared in a tone that was not about to be denied, “And I will be with His Highness. Of course.” 

Fury watched all this and then said, “It’s not going to be a very comfortable plane.” 

Loki answered dryly, “As long as it has a bedroom suite and champagne, I should be fine.” In a more serious tone, he added, “I can manage, Colonel.”

“All right. As you wish,” Fury gave in, still obviously disgruntled, but not about to refuse him at his own base. “Ms Rowan, now it’s your turn to tell us about the compound.” 

She stood up and went to the map pinned to the wall. All eyes were on her, and suddenly she forgot how to speak and everything she knew about Thanos’ estate as her stomach roiled. It was Loki’s smile that gave her the strength to take a deep breath to settle her nerves, clear her throat, and begin.


	20. Chapter 20

Loki watched the proceedings, not wanting to admit he was bored, but he very much was. Sif’s information had been interesting, especially since he knew his attention to the details of Thanos’ estate made Grundroth suspicious that being in the plane wasn't all he wanted to do, but after that it had switched to the mission planning. And since Loki had no true intention of jumping out of the plane, the details of the battle plan were tedious.

But princely duty was to pay attention, so he tried to focus on what Rogers was saying. Except he was going over it again, and Loki could practically recite it by now. He turned his head, hoping to meet Sif’s eyes and find her equally as bored, but she seemed focused on Rogers’ words, interjecting her own observations and suggestions. Even Thor was into it, so Loki couldn’t pass him notes across the table. The table was too wide to kick him.

This military talk made him think of jet engines, helicopters, guns -- simple mechanisms and physics to do complex things. That was supposed to be the tesseract as well, and it was frustrating that the process was proving more complicated than he knew it should be.

He pretended to examine the map on the paper in front of him, not really seeing it. He’d much rather be at the facility with Erik and Jane, or at least talking to them to hear how it was going, than this.

Jane had reported that the iridium had helped stabilize the beam, as they’d planned, but they needed more. Except Loki didn’t want to use more since it was rare, and the whole “cheap energy” idea would be a bust if they needed too much of it. He was hoping he could find a way without it altogether, but until then they needed a way that could use less, not more.

But… Wait. It was possible that if they… They’d tried the other configuration without the iridium, but now, with the iridium, it could work...

He turned the map over to the blank side and grabbed the pen to sketch out the equation, thinking it through. Intuitively, he knew it would work, but he needed to run the values, and for that he needed a computer.

Looking up, he saw that his distraction had been noticed and there were eyes on him, including Colonel Fury’s disapproving glower. But Loki ignored them to look at the computer stations on the other side. They were all occupied.

With a somewhat apologetic smile at Rogers, Loki got to his feet, which forced everyone else to their feet, as well. “Pardon the interruption, everyone. General, if I could speak with you briefly?” He moved toward the door, Leifvettr coming to meet him. “Is there an empty office to borrow?” he asked. “I have an idea for the tesseract, but I need the internet. And my laptop,” he added in an aside to Grundroth, who had followed him.

“Of course, sir. I believe all your things were taken to the commander’s cottage. It's yours as long as you’re here, computer and wifi included.” Before Loki could begin to demur to borrowing the general’s house, Leifvettr waved his aide over and ordered, “Sergeant Ulli, get His Highness settled in the house.”

“You should stay,” Loki told Grundroth, and gestured back toward his empty chair next to Sif. “Be my representative, since I know this is more your area of expertise.” Grundroth had been in Afghanistan in combat before requesting transfer to the Royal Guard, when he’d learned of the contract on Loki’s life. Though he didn’t think Grundroth wanted back to his combat post, he could do a lot more than babysit wayward princelings. Certainly he deserved some time away from babysitting princes who pretended they were going to jump into a war zone just to screw with him. “Take your time. I’m sure this is far more interesting for you than watching me at the computer. And besides, no one off the base can even know I’m here, right?”

“True, but, sir--”

Loki shook his head to silence him. It was silly to have Grundroth trailing after him. He was on the base, surrounded by his own people sworn to protect the crown. He was safer here than in the palace itself. He smiled and nodded his head at the aide, “Sergeant Ulli is going to escort me. I won’t get lost. Promise.”

Grundroth nodded, still reluctant but accepting the new plan. “Until we’re done here. Do not linger outside. Margud will join you as soon as she’s finished with Maxine. The rest of our detatchment arrives by four. Perhaps, General, I might borrow a few of your men--”

“No need. I’ll be fine.” Loki shooed him back to the table, waved to Sif, and made his escape, Sergeant Ulli at his heels.

* * *

 

The general’s house was a small place tucked behind the admin building with bright yellow walls, white trim, and flowers in front of the windows. The general had no family to displace, the sergeant explained making Loki feel slightly better, and led the way up the steps to the front door.

Inside there was a mud room, and an inner door already standing open that led to an main room with a wall of shelves, fireplace, sofa, easy chair, and small wooden end tables with photos and lamps. Either he’d had it tidied for Loki or he was naturally neat, because there was nothing out of place. Off the living room was a dining room with a table big enough for ten, and a kitchen beyond that.

There was an office the other way, with military decorations and books, flags, and the formal coronation portrait of his father on the wall. The broad modern design desk held Loki’s travel case among the usual desk accessories, and Loki sat in the plush chair with a sigh of relief after the uncomfortable chairs in the briefing room.

“Is there anything in particular you need to access, sir?” the sergeant asked, hand-writing on a sticky note. “This is the logon information for the network.”

Loki pulled out his laptop and started booting it up. “I need only the internet. I can remote access what I need through that. Thank you, sergeant.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Would you like something to drink? The general keeps a well-stocked bar for visitors.”

That wasn’t tempting when he knew he wouldn’t touch it once he started work. So he asked for ice water and logged in to the project server, first to check that Jane and Erik hadn’t already run the test he was contemplating.

Water appeared at his elbow, and Ulli asked if he wanted anything else. Absently, Loki excused him, belatedly thinking he should confirm that Sif had a place to stay on base tonight. But Ulli was gone before he could ask, and he figured Maxine would tend to Sif, so he went back to running the numbers on his new idea.

He'd only run the first iteration when a knock on the front door interrupted his concentration. It sounded military, very precise three loud knocks, but it couldn’t be Grundroth or Margud who would knock and enter, but who else would bother him? Maybe it was Sif? Except she didn’t knock like that.

He waited a moment to see if anyone would get the door for him. Maybe he’d missed Margud coming back, but there was no other movement in the house. Apparently Margud was still in a cage match with Maxine over how much of the base to trim out of the photos or something, so that meant he had to go get his own door. “Come in!” he called, but when there was no immediate sound of the door opening, he decided they couldn’t hear him and he’d have to go open it. Maybe Ulli had locked the door on his way out.

Standing up told him he’d been sitting still for too long, bruises having stiffened up with his immobility at the computer. He stretched his arms and neck as he headed to the door, surprised when the the door opened and a lone soldier entered.

Loki recognized him as one of the Americans under Rogers’ command on the strike team, as the solder closed the door behind him and crossed the mudroom. Loki had met him briefly in the line, before most of them had been dismissed from the briefing. “Rumlow” was stitched onto his jacket, with minimal other decorations or insignia. Rumlow looked around curiously, checking the corners as if he thought he'd be attacked in here, but straightened when he saw he had Loki’s attention. “Sir. I have this for you, from Colonel Fury.” He held out a large brown envelope.

Loki reached for it, frowning, wondering why the colonel needed to send papers to him. “Very well. Thank you.” He turned the envelope over, and found it was blank, without his name on it, and when he opened it, it was empty. “What? Is this some kind of joke, Sergeant?” he demanded and looked up, expecting Rumlow to be smiling, and admit that yes, Captain Rogers thought he was funny….

Rumlow was holding a combat knife in his hand, and he was smiling. “Oh, it’s a joke, all right,” he answered. “A joke that you think Thanos can’t get to you, whenever he wants.”

Everything froze.

No, this could not be happening. He looked behind Rumlow, praying someone - anyone - was coming in, but the door was closed. He pulled in breath to shout, and Rumlow attacked. His left hand gripped Loki’s shoulder to hold him still, and the other slammed the blade into his abdomen.

The pressure was first, like getting punched in the gut, and he folded down, his shout turning into a gasp as the breath was driven right out of him. The pain followed, a heat under his ribs. Face to face so Loki could feel Rumlow’s breath on his skin. “Thank you for making me rich,” Rumlow murmured into his ear.

“You… won’t get far,” Loki managed, barely a whisper.

“Far enough.” Rumlow did something, moved the blade, and a blinding pain shot through his body, forcing out a cry through his lips. Then he pulled the knife out, and pushed Loki in the chest backwards.

He tried to twist, to break his fall. His fingers smacked into the arm of the couch, but he couldn’t grip it. Hitting the floor was like being doused in ice-water; his whole body seemed to stop, and his vision whited out.

“You’re going to bleed out. A couple of minutes,” Rumlow said, somewhere above him, somehow penetrating the haze.

Loki tried to call out again, but Rumlow’s hand went over his mouth, fingers tight on his jaw. “Now, now,” he chided, “be quiet. Or I’ll cut your throat.” His other hand patted Loki’s pockets and found his phone. “I’ll take this as my souvenir and proof it was me.” He let go of Loki’s jaw and stood over him. “I’d bow, Your Royal Highness, but we got rid of that shit two hundred years ago in America."

Heavy combat boots made the floor tremble as he walked away. A moment later the front door shut and Loki knew he was alone.

For a moment he appreciated the irony that Grundroth had been right all along, and they should’ve gone to Bryggen where greedy Americans wouldn’t be tempted into murder. Loki was never arguing against his bodyguard’s suggestion ever again.

Fuck, where was Sif? Why wasn’t she here? Why had he come to depend on her so much? She should be here to save him, but she wasn’t.

Grundroth and Margud, where were they? Why weren’t they coming? He shouldn’t have told them he was safe, when he wasn’t.

Trying to breathe made everything hurt so badly.

If he didn’t get help, he would die. If he didn’t move, he would die.

 _Mama, please, help me_ , he prayed to her, believing she was out there, looking out for him. She had been so strong, through chemo, through radiation, through so much that had ravaged her body, but never her spirit or her heart. Loving her only son with all her power right up to the very last day, when trembling fingers had touched his face, and she’d whispered, “I love you so much, never forget that.”

If she could fight so hard, for so long, he could move, too.

Despite the pain, he put a hand over the wound as tight as he could, feeling his shirt wet with blood. Touching it made him let another gasping cry he tried to smother, but realized he was trying to be quiet, when that was stupid, he needed noise.

“Help!” But trying to shout came out all ragged and broken, and he nearly passed out from the effort. Black spots grew in his vision, nearly overtaking it, but he forced them away. Taking some shallow breaths through clenched teeth, he lifted his head from the carpet. With his other hand, he pushed his torso up a little ways, until the pain was too much, like he was splitting in half.

There was blood all over his hand and his shirt, and the smell was in his nose, making him nauseous and dizzy.

The door. The door looked like it was in America, so far away. Something else, his phone, no Rumlow had taken it. Another phone, something…

He couldn’t think. His entire brain felt shut down, overwhelmed by how much this hurt. He’d thought getting shot had hurt, but this was grabbing his chest and his middle with white-hot iron claws and squeezing.

He needed someone to hear something. But there was no phone on the end-table nearest him, only a lamp, a clock, and some photos in frames. He’d have to get to the door.

He lurched a little way across the rug, toward the door. That small movement made him breathless and light-headed, pain pounding through his entire middle. But then he wasn't moving, stuck still, though it took him several tries to realize. His foot was caught on something.

He twisted his neck to see what he’d gotten stuck on, and saw the toes of his shoes were caught on the leg of the end table. And he knew what to do, drawing up a foot and pushing one of the thin wooden legs. The table overturned, sending its contents crashing to the floor with a loud clatter.

There. Someone must’ve heard that, surely.

But he didn’t hear any footsteps, and was disheartened. No one had heard.

There was nothing left to knock over. No phone. He had to get to the door. He pulled his knees up, planning to get more upright, stand up and walk there, but the movement was too much and he had to put both hands down to not fall back down to the floor, weakness running through him like a wave.

Head hanging down, he tried to find air in a way that didn’t hurt, hissing through his clenched teeth. His arms shook, weak as new branches, flexible and trembling.

He was not going to die, not here, not now. He refused. Thanos was not going to win.

 _I am the Crown Prince of Jotunheim. I trace my lineage back to gods and heroes, and my grandfather lived three years in the mountains, getting shot at by Nazis, I can crawl across the fucking floor. Move, damn it_.

He crawled across the rug, bit by bit. His body moved, lurching forward, while he kept up a running mental commentary of reminding himself of how much stronger his mother and his grandfather had been, surviving so much worse, for so much longer. He could do no less.

He struck his head on something hard and banged it twice, before he looked up, to find the door. It was real. He’d reached it. Leaning against it, he reached his free hand, struggling to get up high enough to reach the handle.

Slumping against the door once he was on his knees, he lacked the strength to do anything but shake and gasp for air.

 _Open the door_ , he told himself. _If you don’t open the door, it doesn’t matter. Put fingers on handle, push it down_.

His body wasn’t obeying him though. His left hand was holding the wound, and his right was flat against the white paint of the door. Peeling his fingers away left a blood smear behind.

 _General Leifvettr isn’t going to like bloody handprints over his white door. Very untidy_.

That seemed funny, but trying to laugh made a strange gasp come out of his throat.

 _Focus_ , he told himself sharply. _Get it together. Open the door_.

He'd made trembling fingers open the lock, when there was a knock on the other side. Was he imagining it? Were they real? How was he hearing anything over the sound of his own wheezing breaths. Then it happened again. Three short raps, and Sif’s voice, “Loki? Are you in there?”

He tried to call back, but it was just a groan, barely audible even to himself.

Lifting his hand from the door was so hard, but he managed, letting it fall back against the door, and doing it again. Not a knock, barely a slap, but it was the best he could do. “Sif…” It was a whisper, and he had no breath for it. At least the pain seemed less, with the fog crowding the edges of his mind.

“Loki? Is that you? Is there something wrong?” Sif called back, her voice more anxious. The door handle jiggled against him, waking the pain again and he moaned.

Sif heard that. “Loki!” She pushed at the door, but his weight was against it so at first it only cracked open. Then she shoved, and he fell backward.

The fire filled him, stealing his awareness, so he knew nothing else.

... _ohgodohgodohgodmakeitstop_...

“Oh my God! Loki!” someone exclaimed and there was a a scream that made his ears ring in spite of the blood rushing through them and dragged him back to his body. He didn’t seem to hurt as much now; it was cold enough to numb the pain.

Someone shouted, “Help! Someone help!”

Suddenly Sif was there, kneeling by his side. That was nice. He liked looking at her face. She was really beautiful. He was glad to see her again.

She’d have a proper life now. She was back on the side of the angels where she belonged, that was a good accomplishment. He’d done that. And the tesseract would be built; Erik and Jane could finish. It would go on without him.

His father … his father would be crushed. Despite Loki’s many failures at being a good son, his father had never lost faith that someday Loki would turn it around and be the son he should have been.

But the tesseract was going to have to be his legacy, not being king. And Loki was a bit glad about that, to accomplish something with his mind and talent, not just luck of his birth.

Sif smacked his cheek, startling him. “Hey, don’t you leave me!” she ordered him and he smiled, intending to reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Except he could feel his heart beating, too fast, pounding in his ears, wanting oxygen, but every breath tore something inside. He couldn’t feel his feet, and he was so cold.

“Loki! Who did this?” Sif asked. Her hand was too warm on his cheek, trying to get him to look at her.

It took him a moment to remember how to make words. “... Rum… Rumlow,” he told her. “Amer-”

“American,” Sif cut him off. “Yeah, I know who he is. Strike team with Rogers.”

But really, while it was important Rumlow wasn’t going to get away with it, he didn’t care that much. “Sif, I -- want-- I---” he started, but lost the thread of what he wanted to tell her and not enough air to say it anyway.

She was talking to him, but the words passed over him, too distant to notice. There were tears in her eyes, and he wanted to tell her not to cry, but he was too tired to speak. The darkness was too heavy, and he was too small.

 _Have I fought long enough, Mama_? he asked the quiet shadows waiting for him. _Can I find you now_?

There was no answer from the encroaching dark.

* * *

... tbc... 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Sif was amused as Loki loudly and abruptly turned over the sheet of paper in front of him and started scribbling on it, ignoring everything else in the room. Glancing at his writing she saw… math. She had not one clue what any of it meant - something to do with the project, probably - but she suddenly felt very protective, wanting to shelter him against the irritated looks he was getting for not paying attention. Not that he cared; he’d probably not notice anything short of a bomb going off. But when Fury cleared his throat, she glared to tell him to quit it and leave Loki alone. The tesseract was a better use of his time than his reckless choice to join the mission anyway.

When Loki left, she was glad for him. At least now he’d get to work in peace.

A bit later, they took a coffee break. When she stood and stretched, thinking wistfully of a glass of wine for all these aches, Grundroth glanced at the door. “I should check on him.”

She volunteered, “I’ll go bother him-- I mean, see how he’s doing.”

They exchanged amused looks, and she was glad they were part of the same team now. “I will follow soon,” he promised.

At the general’s cottage, all seemed quiet, and when she knocked on the door no one answered. It was odd, though, because she heard something on the other side of the door. Did the general have a dog?

She called for Loki again, wondering if he was that deep in his math, he couldn't even hear her. But then, she heard a groan she recognized, from when he’d been beneath her and shot in the back.

Something was terribly wrong. She shoved the door open.

Blood. So much blood.

Loki was sprawled on his back, the front of his shirt and trousers dyed red, as were his hands. There was a bloody trail across the wooden floor all the way to the rug of the living room. God, had he crawled all that way?

She let loose a scream through the open door, knowing that would carry better than a shout, and thank God, she heard some people running toward her, while she started to tend Loki.

His skin had turned translucent looking and was cool to the touch, indicating blood loss and shock. Grabbing the blanket folded on the back of the couch, she threw herself down at his side and shoved the blanket against the wound in his upper abdomen. His breathing was shallow and slow, obviously pained, and when he tried to talk it was so halting and difficult, the fear rose up inside that he was dying. He managed to tell her about Rumlow, and she vowed to shoot that man in the head and put him down like a fucking rabid dog.

But Loki struggled to say her name, as if he was going to pass on one last message and it struck her in the heart. She didn’t want to hear any final words, no goodbyes.

“Shut up,” she told him. “Just hold on. Don’t let go. Don’t you dare. Don’t you let that fucker win. You’re going to live a long, happy life, filled with people who love you, and you’ll see this amazing future you’re making for us. You _have_ to!”

Her voice broke, and the wet heat in her eyes threatened to break free as his eyes shut and his head lolled to the side. Terror that he was gone clutched at her, before she saw him breathe again. He’d passed out, but this was still bad. She could still lose him.

She remembered him so handsome, dressed in his finery to address parliament, every inch a prince, and then after his panic attack, vulnerable and apologetic, and the touch of his lips when they’d kissed.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, staring at his face and watching for every faint breath, as she held the blanket as tight as she could to slow the bleeding. And she prayed to anyone who would listen not to take him away.

 _The world needs him,_ she implored silently. But that felt dishonest, because it wasn’t the world’s loss she was thinking about, so she added, _I need him, please. Even if we’re not together, even if I ruined everything between us, please don’t take him from me_.

Finally people came. Grundroth ran in, boots halting halfway as he stared in abject horror, before he snapped to and pulled his radio to issue rapid orders.

“Rumlow did it. Loki told me before passed out,” she told him urgently.

That added some other commands on the radio and a few seconds later she heard the base alert klaxon start to blare.

Grundroth ignored it, to kneel across from her and make a quick assessment of Loki’s pulse at his throat, and he barked orders at the younger soldiers hovering helplessly. One of them got a cushion off the couch and put it under Loki’s feet, holding them there with a shocked face, and another disappeared into a connecting room and came back with a blanket to spread over Loki’s lower body.

Medics arrived, with a large, fancy first aid kit, and Sif found herself displaced as strangers gathered around to help him. No one was speaking English anymore, so she could only watch what was happening, heart in her throat, and listen to the urgent commands of the medics and Grundroth, who stayed white-faced and shouting into his radio and his phone.

They tended him so slowly Sif wanted to scream at them to hurry up. Why were they not doing more, and doing it faster?

But when the gurney arrived and they lifted him onto it, it all seemed to go fast instead: his shirt and jacket had been cut off, and there was an IV and pulse monitor, attached to him, and they were rolling him out. Grundroth had his weapon drawn as he paced the stretcher, wary of Rumlow or anyone else making another move on the helpless prince.

She stood and moved to follow, but some Jotunheim soldier she didn’t recognize, blocked her. “Miss, you must stay here.”

“But I--” Oh. Right. She couldn’t go with them. She was nobody. She wasn’t family; she wasn’t his fiancee or girlfriend. At best, she was a friend. She had no place at his side right now.

Nodding, she moved back, ending up against the wall, watching as the others took him away. The soldiers and medics gathered their things and left, so she stayed there, alone. She sank down to the base of the wall, her knees pulled up, with only the pool of his blood across the rug to look at.

She heard a helicopter take off, presumably heading straight to the hospital.

Holding out her hands, there was blood all over them. She should go wash, but if she washed his blood off, would that be like washing him away? Would it doom him? If she got up, maybe he would die. It was superstitutious, she knew that, but she stayed on the floor, just in case. It was all she could do for him.

“Sif!” a familiar voice exclaimed, stirring her to alertness.

Thor stood there, handsome face frowning with worry for his friend. “There you are,” he said. “I am heading to the hospital if you wish to come with me.”

She wanted to go with Thor. She wanted to hear that Loki would be all right. But she had no place there, as had been driven home already.

“He’ll be in surgery for hours,” she said, her voice strange to her ears. It seemed too normal. “I can’t wait around and not do anything. What I _want_ to do is hunt down Rumlow.”

Thor squatted down before her. “Rumlow? One of the Americans?”

“Loki told me so, before he passed out.”

“But he is no asssassin, merely a soldier in the American team. Why would he do it?”

“Money,” she answered in disgust, then heard herself and gave a short laugh. “Funny, I’m condemning him for trying to murder Loki for five million dollars, when I was thinking about doing it for a tenth of that. So who’s the worse person, him or me?”

Somber blue eyes met hers and he put a hand on her knee. “The difference is, you didn’t do it. You saved his life.”

She snorted and waved a hand vaguely at the blood stain on the rug where he’d lain. “I did a great job, too.”

“Sif, if -- God forbid-- he does not survive this, it isn’t your fault,” Thor reassured her. “Only Rumlow is responsible.”

She listened to him an gave him a wan smile. “I hear you. And I’m sure you’re right, but I’m not feeling that right now. The only thing that’s going to make me feel better is Loki alive and Rumlow’s head on a plate.”

He glanced at the same pool of blood, and his gaze was hard when it came back to meet hers. “We can do nothing for Loki right now, that is in the hands of doctors, but about the second? Perhaps we can do.”

Intrigued, she frowned at him. “Oh?”

“We join the hunt.” Thor stood up, looming over her at this angle, and he held out his hand. “Come with me?”

She put her hand out but didn’t take his, seeing the blood drying on hers. Thor likewise hesitated, seeing it, but then grabbed her hand and pulled her effortlessly to her feet anyway.

“We will find this murderous villain,” Thor promised her, his larger hand still engulfing hers. “And we will bring him to justice.”

* * *

While Sif was washing her hands, the phone in her pocket buzzed, and she pulled it out, hoping it was news. It was a text, from an unfamiliar number, saying simply: _Grundroth. Please secure Lokis phone and laptop. Royal Guard will take them later_.

She texted back. “ _Yes, I will. How is he_?”

The reply was brief and stark: “ _In surgery_.”

She tried to tell herself that surgery meant he hadn’t died on the way to the hospital, so that was probably good news. These days, prompt medical attention meant people could survive far worse injuries. She put her phone back, dried her hands, and asked, “Thor, do you see Loki’s phone? Grundroth wants me to take it and his laptop and hold them for now.”

Thor looked around on the floor and to the adjoining rooms, and shook his head. “No, nothing.”

She checked the office, poking through his bag in case the phone was there, before she put the laptop in it. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she went back out in the living room to search there. But after looking all around the house, under the sofa even, it didn’t turn up.

“If Loki didn’t have it with him when the paramedics took him, and it’s not here….” she started, frowning. “Did he drop it? Or,” another idea hit, “did Rumlow steal it? I bet he took it, the bastard. A trophy,” she spat in disgust.

Thor rubbed his chin. “That… might help us.’ He explained to her questioning look, “Loki’s phone is like mine; turning it off does not stop it from transmitting.” He pulled out his own phone. “I will contact a friend in our defense ministry see if he can track it.”

‘ _Track it_ ’. Find the phone, find Rumlow. Her eyes met Thor’s, reading the same hope there.

On his phone, Thor identified himself and asked for someone named Heimdall, and that was as much as Sif understood. While he spoke to his friend, Sif reached out to set the overturned table back on its legs, but pulled her hand back, leaving it. the table and blood trail to the door made a distressing yet encouraging picture of his courage, and it had to mean he would pull through. He hadn’t come through all this, to give up now.

Thor hung up and turned to her. “He will contact me when they have it going. We should get ready.”

“Ready?” she repeated, unsure what he meant them to do.

“We are going after him, are we not? That means weapons and, for that, I will need to speak to General Leifvettr.”

“I, uh, have a 9mm,” she admitted. “Grundroth gave me one during the car shoot-out, and I never gave it back. It’s in my case.”

His look turned appraising and he nodded. “Good. Tell no one. Get it, and meet me at the carpark. we will borrow a vehicle and join the hunt.”

 

* * *

... tbc.. 

 


	22. Chapter 22

She’d been given a single room in the women’s dormitory which wasn’t exactly a room in the palace or the royal lodge, but definitely a place closer to what she was used to staying in. The furniture was all simple, sleekly modern, Scandinavian style, which made hiding things difficult. She ended up shoving Loki’s laptop case beneath the bed, which wasn’t ‘secure’ but at least wasn’t out in the open. She changed to the other blouse, and putting the blood stained one to soak in the sink in the hope that it might magically clean itself. Then she took the gun out of the travel case and put it in her purse. It made her purse heavy, but it would be too obvious in her coat pocket. She wished she had her poison ring again or a knife, because she had only three bullets in the gun. But it was better than nothing.

On her way to meet Thor, Coulson was lingering outside the admin building, and as soon as he saw her, he strode purposefully to meet her.

In the emptiness of the green quad, she stopped and waited. “Hey. Boss.”

His wince was nearly imperceptible. “Ms Rowan. I’m told you found Prince Loki?”

“I did,” she answered. “Not soon enough, though. I’m going with Thor to track down Rumlow.”

He nodded, then said quietly but with more threat in his voice, making him far less the mild-mannered administrator he looked like in his plain black suit, “I’m going along with this because I owe Tony, but if this is some kind of play, I will make sure you are not anyone’s problem anymore. I trust you understand me?”

She stiffened. “It’s not a play.”

“No? You didn’t stab him yourself? Hoping to get the money and now you’re going to pin it on Rumlow?”

Her jaw dropped. “ _What_? You think I--? After everything I’ve done to keep him _alive_ , you think I tried to kill him again? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Fury was boiling over, that he would dare accuse her. And so wrongly, too. “And also, if I was going to stab him, I would’ve done it so he’d actually _die_ , not make him suffer and bleed to death while he crawled across the floor in a desperate attempt to get help. Which I gave him, while the asshole who really did stab him is probably halfway to Alfheim by now.” She was up in his face by now, glad she was taller and could glare at him, even if she held back from punching him. “Don’t you have a job to do? Something useful like finding Rumlow, because that’s what I’m going to do.”

She turned and stormed off, furious at the accusation that he’d thought she could do that. Had she not proven herself yet? How _dare_ he?

Halfway to the carpark, her temper started to ease its grip, knowing a lot of it was simply her anxiety for Loki. It should have occurred to her that someone would try to pin the blame on her, since she’d been the one to find him. But Loki knew the truth, and he’d be fine and able to confirm what she said when he was awake. And he would awaken. She’d been late, but not too late. She hoped.

And when this was all over, when Rumlow and Thanos were both dead, she’d go to Loki and she’d say goodbye and then disappear from his life. If Coulson thought she was still an assassin, so would other people. Her past would always be there, dogging her steps, and Loki didn’t need that. He needed someone normal-- a school teacher like his mother, or a ballerina, or a doctor, or pretty much anyone except her.

Loitering where the cars were, she waited for Thor. A couple people asked her if she needed help, and one young soldier who had seen her with Loki came up to her to ask haltingly what happened, so she told him. That gathered a small audience and she noticed Maxine’s photographer was taking her picture as she was telling the story. She frowned, but decided it was better to have some proof that she wasn’t trying to run away.

Thor hurried up, a giant presence even more than his large size, and within seconds, he had secured them a jeep and they were driving toward the gate. “Aren’t you going to bring your own people?” she asked. “They’re letting you go after a killer?”

He gave a laugh. “If they knew, probably not. They think I need a car to go to Loki. Here,” he plucked his phone out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Heimdall found that Loki’s mobile is active, so we have a target area. In Bryggen, just north of here.”

“Did you tell Leifvettr or the Royal Guard about Loki’s phone?” she asked, and wasn’t surprised to hear the answer was no. No wonder Volstagg had been so despairing of both the princes; it hadn’t been all Loki, for sure.

“They’ll figure it out. But I want to be first. We can request backup when we’re close,” he said. “Police already are looking for him, too. My hope is he hid somewhere, hoping the hunt passes him.”

She opened her mouth to say this was a risky plan; not just to themselves personally, but what if they lost Rumlow by keeping the information about the phone to themselves?

But on the other hand, if they told, they might lose their chance at Rumlow, since police would try to take him into custody. She looked at Thor. He glanced back, and she saw the same hardness in his face that she felt. Neither of them spoke their intent aloud, not wanting to put to words something which was clearly vengeance, but they knew. Rumlow wasn’t going to be arrested if either of them had any say in it.

Once they cleared the base gate, there were some farms as separation from the base, then the town itself. Which wasn’t especially large, but bigger than the farming village it had been before the naval base had come there in the cold war. Police and military vehicles were out in force, searching for Rumlow. Except for that, it was a lovely little town, Sif thought, very green with the mountains framing behind it.

Beyond the town, Thor drove fast up the road that continued back up the valley. It was picturesque and empty. “Why the hell didn’t they catch him right away?” she groused. “He couldn’t have had much head start.”

“Because the only helicopter was used for Loki, and once Rumlow reached the highway, which is right here,” Thor maneuvered the car swiftly around the roundabout and onto the wider highway, “he could go north or south. We know he went north, but they do not. They must search Brekstad and check farms. Until the public gets an alert, no one will know he’s not a tourist, except the police.”

She grimaced. “And in a bigger town he’ll ditch the car.” Looking down at the map on the phone and the small dot in Bryggen gleaming so innocently, she asked, “Why there, though? That’s going to be the first place everyone looks.”

“Likely,” Thor agreed. “More choice, I think. He will know Utgard is secure, because of the Winter Soldier attack. But from Bryggen, he can cross back over the mountains and try to enter Asgard, or drive all the way to the northern border with Vanaheim and Russia,” Thor answered. “Also, Bryggen has a train station or ferries, though I would hope those have been alerted already. It should be difficult for him in heightened alert.”

"There are other boats.” She stared glumly at the map on Thor’s phone and its very obvious harbor. If he stole or hijacked a boat, they’d definitely need the navy to go after him.

They didn’t have good triangulation yet, but as they got closer she hoped it would improve to something more detailed. It wasn’t a huge city, but they’d need better than a dot in the middle of town.

Of course, that was assuming Rumlow hadn’t put Loki’s phone in the trash or left it on a park bench, if he guessed it could be tracked.

Thor drove deftly and fast, swinging around a small truck and flooring the accelerator to pass as if he were driving Formula One again. “So who was the better race car driver?” she asked. “You or Loki?”

“Me,” he answered. “He only wins when he stops thinking too much. But after the attack in Utgard, I doubt I will get him to race again soon.”

“Probably not. Assuming he’s going to be okay," she murmured and looked down at the phone.

Thor reached across and patted her leg. ‘He will be, Sif. He will have the best doctors, and I know how badly he wants to see his invention work; he will hold on very hard to life.”

Reassured, she nodded, and then bit her lip, holding up his phone. “But if something happens? Will we know? will someone call you? Because they won’t call me.” Grundroth had her number, but Sif didn’t flatter herself that he would remember to contact her. No one would, probably.

“I will probably hear, but Sif…” His gaze fixed on the road ahead, he answered, “If he dies, they will announce it. The church bells will ring. Flags will lower. Everyone will know.”

“Oh. Of course.” She felt stupid for not realizing it wasn’t going to be a secret or even private. It made her stomach twist, thinking of his father having to mourn his only child in public. Loki would have to be okay, for Laufey’s sake.

Thor murmured, “When my little brother died, I was young, but I remember the church bells.” His gaze grew distant as he stared back into childhood memory. “They seemed to ring forever, and it is such a sad sound to me.”

“Your little brother?”

“Balder.” he glanced at her, sad smile twisting his lips. “I don’t know what it’s called in English, but he was suddenly sick, fevered, and he died. All I remember of him is the sound of bells. Loki has been the only brother I know. And I will not lose him to these evil men.” The sadness was replaced by a determined strong jaw. “Nor I think, will you.”

“Nope.”

Bright blue eyes were suddenly lasers, right at her. “Because you love him.”

She gave a short startled laugh. “What? No. I-- I just -- I care,” she fumbled over her words. “I do care. And I want him to be well, but love?” She forced another laugh. “No. I can’t. That’s … stupid.”

His eyes returned to the road, and his hands were relaxed on the steering wheel, as he said mildly, “Oh. That’s too bad. Because I think he loves you.”

It was ridiculous how hearing those words made her heart swell with a warmth suspiciously like joy. _Loved_ her, Thor thought Loki loved her. Did he? Was it true? No, of course, he couldn’t. Love was for girls who deserved it, not her. So she immediately had to reject it. “He has a stupid _crush_ , is what it is. It’s impossible, and I know it, even if he doesn’t.”

He frowned at her and echoed, “Impossible? How so? He does not need to marry a title; those days are long past,” he reassured her. “Being foreign does not matter either; well, perhaps American will make some hesitate, but--”

This was becoming unbearable. love, marriage -- these things were impossible. She had lost them, the possibility of them, long ago. She interrupted flatly, “I was an _assassin_. I killed people. Even if that never comes out, the cover that I’m a CIA spy is almost as bad. So, no, I appreciate that everybody wants him to be married to something other than the tesseract, but it can’t be me.” She inhaled a ragged breath. “I won’t wreck everything he could do by being that selfish.”

Abruptly he turned the wheel, sending them onto the grass at the side of the road. When the car finished shuddering to a stop, he turned to her and demanded, “What do you mean?”

She dampened her lips, taken by surprise by his sudden act and the reminder of the car wreck in Utgard as the seat belt pressed into her shoulder. “I believe in the tesseract,” she explained finally. “I don’t believe in much, but I do believe in that. In him. Loki’s invention is going to make the world a new and better place. But only if he’s allowed to do it, and if people aren’t distracted by gossip about me. If they learn what I am and reject him because of me, that’s not right, and I won’t let it happen.”

He stared at her, those amazing blue eyes and handsome face startling in the light, before he started to smile. “No wonder he loves you,” he murmured in appreciation. “That is a beautiful, self-less thing you just said. Wrong,” he added with a flashing grin, “but beautiful.”

“No,” she insisted, “I know how it works, gossip and websites, probing into secrets and digging up nastiness. It won’t stay buried, and even if it could be, why live in that fear that someone might uncover something?”

He lifted both hands in a sort of shrug. “And do what? Your unusual past is how you were able to save his life, Sif. In a few days, Maxine will make sure everyone knows that.”

“But--”

“Do you not think it should be his choice to make?” Thor cocked his head to regard her. “You wish to choose for him, which is noble, but no less suffocating than if he chose for you. He knows the dangers.”

“Does he? He has the self-preservation of a goldfish!” she objected. “Both of you, you do what you want, so sure you’re protected. But he’s not! He’d just throw it away!”

Her hand smacked the window in her agitation, and she grimaced at the sharp pain, shaking her fingers.

But Thor was having none of her objection, and he shook his head. “His very _life_ is in danger because of the tesseract, Sif. Do you think that if he found something of equal value to it, he would not risk his reputation? For that’s really what you want to protect, isn’t it? His reputation? Which is old-fashioned of you, and sweet, but not necessary.” She was about to argue, but he held up his hand and she stopped. “What is the worst to happen? People find out you did worse than spy and he loved you anyway, and then you saved him? What should they think but that you redeem each other?”

Her lips opened to reflexively argue, but she could find nothing to say.

 _Redeem_. Was it true? Could it be true? Was it possible?

She feebly tried to push it away. “What about Rumlow? Shouldn’t we keep going?”

“Someone will catch him,” Thor said with a dismissive wave of both hands, as he turned to face her, uncomfortably wedging his big frame between the wheel and seat. “But this, I think more necessary. Or you will disappear for his own good, and he will drown himself in work for the world’s good, and you both will be miserable.”

That outcome sounded depressingly likely. She sighed. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you?” she accused in disgust, but despite that, she knew he was right.

“I am,” he admitted with a happy grin. “And I want to see my brother happy. If it is with you, then good. If not with you, still better to know, right? Take a risk, Sif,” he advised kindly. “Happiness, love, these are things hard to find, and when we have them, we must hold onto them.“ Two big hands clenched to fists, and his expression was so earnest, she had no choice but give in.

“Fine,” she said. “I won’t run away. I’m not promising marriage or anything like that-- hell, we’ve barely spent a week together -- but I won’t go poof on him, until we figure out what we want.”

She realized that might be terribly optimistic, and she grimaced. “Assuming everything turns out okay.”

Assuming Loki would survive the attack on him, and this wasn’t all wishful thinking.

“We could go wait, if you want,” Thor offered. “He is in hospital in Bryggen.”

All thoughts of romantic entanglements fled, and she stared in horrified dismay. “He’s in the same town Rumlow is? Are you fucking kidding me?” She hit the steering wheel. “Thor, drive. We’ve got to find that murderous scumbag before he learns Loki’s there and tries for him again. C’mon, go!”

* * *

tbc... 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

Sif had seen some amazing, beautiful scenery since flying into this country, and still her mouth dropped open as the road crested the hill and laid out the entirety of the town and the fjord. The sun was hiding behind overcast grey skies and it still was postcard gorgeous, befitting the massive white cruise ship gleaming in the middle of the water.

She looked down at the town of mostly low buildings down by the water and rising up the hillsides, and thought of Loki down there somewhere in an operating room while the doctors worked on him to save his life.

She checked the phone for a message in case someone had contacted Thor, and found no one had, thankfully. No news seemed good news, in this case. Then she switched the screen back to the map.

Zooming in, the dot indicating Loki’s phone location appeared to be near the middle of town, not far from the central train station. “The ping is from the city center. Head there.”

He glanced at her, perhaps unused to someone telling him what to do, but acknowledged, “Okay.”

She stared at the dot. It expanded but grew fuzzy, when she tried to zoom in on it. It was there, but not precise. “I hope we get better resolution.”

“We should,” Thor answered as he smoothly pulled around some other cars and accelerated down the incline, heading into town. “As we come near, my mobile can be another point of triangulation. If,” he added with a heavy sigh, “he has not left Loki’s mobile in the stolen car to mislead us.”

“God, I hope not,” she muttered, but then shook her head. “I doubt it though; he took it in the first place. And since he’s a greedy bastard, he’s not going to get rid of his trophy so easily.”

As Thor pulled off the exit of the divided highway and into the town, Sif saw a police car waiting there, watching, though whether that was a usual patrol, part of the alert from Utgard, or new, she didn’t know. It did strike her as closing the barn door after the horse was gone, since Rumlow had already made it inside the city.

Thor didn’t seem to need her to navigate for him, and she asked, “You’ve been here before?”

“Several times with Loki. He likes it here.”

Sif could see why as they made their way toward the water. The town was modern, and yet kept its Old World charm to it, with interesting recent architecture next to boring blocky post-war buildings next to wooden buildings that looked centuries old.

She didn’t have long to enjoy the passing scenery though, as the screen refreshed and she saw that Thor was right; they’d gotten a better resolution on the phone’s location.

“Oh, wait, I’ve got it. Left at the next street - Inge-something Gate.” She frowned at the map. “There are a lot of gates in this town. Did it used to have a wall?”

Thor laughed softly and pronounced the word differently. “It means street.”

“Oh! That makes much more sense.” And she felt kind of stupid, so thank goodness she had more directions to offer. “Turn right, two more streets. Then go straight, we’re getting close.” It refreshed and she frowned. “Damn it, now it’s off west. The accuracy is for shit.” She forced another refresh and the dot came back toward her, before going west again where it seemed to settle somewhere out in the water, according to the map. She glanced up. They were in the docks area now, warehouses and stacked containers, trucks and other equipment lying about. Thor was driving more slowly, too, wary for a sudden change of direction.

“Sif? The road ends soon. Are we on top of him?”

“I don’t know,” she said in frustration. “It says the phone’s still aways west of us. In the water? Is he on a boat? Is there an island over there?”

She looked up again, and between a stack of metal barrels, past some parked cars, and the ferry terminal building, she saw a gleam of white. Directly west.

Her heart sank. “Oh God. I think he’s on the cruise ship.” The ship was heading out to sea; he must have managed to sneak aboard during the boarding.

The car hurtled forward as Thor slammed the accelerator, and they sped across the parking area before he pulled up outside the ferry terminal. “Come, Sif, hurry.”

Sif yanked open her door and ran after him as he went for the double doors. Inside, there was a long customer service desk, and a few people working behind it, but no customers.

“I need to reach the Harbormaster,” Thor announced loudly as he strode up to the counter. “He needs to order the cruise ship to stop.”

A tall blonde woman gave a very professional smile as she came to him. “Sir, did you miss your boarding? This is the ferry office, the cruise line office is--”

He interrupted her, his voice strong to force them all to listen, “I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. We believe that ship is carrying the man who tried to stab Prince Loki to death at the Berkstad naval base three hours ago.”

She stared at him, all of that too much for her at once apparently. “Sir?” she finally managed.

“One of the American soldiers seized his chance for money and stabbed Loki,” Thor said. “He is in surgery at the university hospital here, right now.”

The woman glanced helplessly at her companions behind the counter, horrified by the news and uncertain what to do.

“There was a report to increase security, but not all that,” another clerk said, and the other added something Sif didn’t understand.

They could talk about it on their own time. “The Harbormaster?” Sif reminded her. “The Harbormaster needs to tell the ship to stop. And we need to get aboard and find that son of a bitch, before he gets away. Is there a boat, or a helicopter, that can take us?”

There was a brief discussion between the workers, and then the first woman to speak to them said, firmly, “Yes, come this way.” She lifted up a part of the counter to let them to slip through and they followed her through the office and outside to the end of the pier. Beside the gate for the large ferry that would dock there but was not present, there was a smaller gate and behind that a smaller boat tied up.

She called to the man working on it.

“The others are calling into the Harbormaster,” she told Thor. “And to the ship ourselves, we know the crew. Harbor police will follow shortly to assist. And Lasse will take you to the cruise ship as fast as he can. You will have to board by ladder on the starboard side.”

“We can do that, thank you,” Thor said and shook her hand.

“Hurry,” she wished them. “good luck.”

while lasse started the engine of the motorboat, Sif checked the phone. “Signal’s still heading west slowly,” she confirmed.

“Let’s go,” Thor urged and in a moment they were all three aboard and speeding across the harbor. There was little wave action, and in fact what little there was appeared to be caused by the giant ship itself especially as the little boat rammed its way over the wake.

The big ship’s engines made a deep thrumming noise, not louder than the motorboat’s but felt against the hull.

The sea spray and the wind tangled in her hair as they chased the big ship, until it was looming over them. She saw people up on the railing watching them and had a bad feeling. “Hey, Thor, he’s going to recognize us. what if he sees us coming?”

“You want to stop and let the police handle it?” he called back to her. He was riding in the prow, his long hair getting damp by the spray, and despite the circumstances, she could see his excitement at what they were doing. He was a man of action, and he was definitely delighting in this frontal assault.

“Hell no!” she returned and patted her purse, which she’d slung the strap over her head for safety. He grinned at her before turning his face forward again.

“Sir!” the boatman pointed. “They stop!”

He was right; they were drawing up alongside the big ship now, as the engine noise tapered down.

There seemed to be no one watching them from the cabin windows but there was no lack of people leaning over the railings to watch as the motorboat sped next to them, as the giant ship slowed.

Sif squinted, seeing no ladder. It all looked smooth and white, and impossible to climb aboard. But their boatman knew what she did not, and found the white hand-holds that went up to a hatch that was probably for supplies, and now was open. White-suited ship’s crew were waiting.

As soon as they were close enough, Thor grabbed one of the rungs and by sheer physical strength, pulled the motorboat so the hulls touched. “Sif, climb,” he gestured with his other hand. “I will hold it.”

She climbed, and two crewmen helped pull her aboard. Thor followed swiftly, and they were through the hatch. Inside was a large space, packed with crates of supplies. In addition to the crew, there was an officer in a spiffy white and blue uniform with gold stripes on his epaulets.

He blinked at Thor. “It is you. I thought--” He snapped upright. “Sven Halbarad, Your Highness. Security officer of the _Northern Princess_. What is happening? Why are you here?”

“We believe a man - an American soldier - has crept aboard this ship,” Thor said. “A few hours ago, he stabbed Prince Loki, in an attempted assassination and escaped Brekstad Naval Base.”

The three crew were incredulous. “You think he is here?”

“We tracked his phone,” Sif explained. It wasn’t quite true, but close enough.

“We need to find him, as quickly as possible,” Thor said. “Where do you think such a man could hide?”

Halbarad hesitated, made a helpless gesture. “If he managed to sneak on board? Anywhere. This is a big ship.”

“We need to provoke him into moving,” Sif suggested. “The police are coming, so perhaps a security check? Tell everyone to go to their cabins out of the way.”

“And get their passports ready. Jotunheim security has demanded a passport check against the manifest, because of the attack in Utgard,” Thor suggested.

“Yes,” SIf agreed, nodding. “We need to provoke him, but not warn him we know he’s here yet, if we can help it.”

“Yes, I understand,” Halbarad agreed. “I will contact the captain and explain. He will make the announcement.” He strode over to a phone on the wall and called the bridge.

While they waited, one of the other crewmen asked, “Prince Loki? will he be okay?”

“We don’t know,” Sif answered. “It was a bad hit. He lost a lot of blood, but hopefully he got to the hospital in time.” She pulled out the phone again, and the signal was weak, but indicated it was still on board. “Do you have cameras?”

“Many,” the crewman answered promptly.

“Good. We need to look at the monitors and see if we can spot him. And spread the word, his name’s Rumlow. He’s tall, a bit shorter than Thor, but still tall, very fit, dark military-cut hair, olive skin, brown eyes. Spanish, or Italian looking. He was wearing…” she tried to remember, but wasn’t sure, “tan camouflage? I think. Something military at least.”

He listened and nodded, but before he could respond, a loud series of tones rang out and a voice came over the speakers. “ _All hands, crew, and passengers, your attention, please, this is the Captain_ ,” the voice echoed in cavernous space. “ _You may have noticed we have stopped. By orders of the Harbormaster and Jotunheim national security, everyone on board is required to show their passport to match their names to the passenger manifest. This is to comply with heightened security after the terrorist attack a few days ago. So all passengers must return to their cabins immediately and stay there until the security process is complete and we have leave to depart. Thank you for your cooperation_.”

The announcement was repeated in several other languages, but Sif stopped listening at Halbarad returned and they conveyed the request to go to the security station to watch the monitors. He agreed, dismissed the two crew to assist the passengers, and led them through the ship. they used narrow inner corridors and a freight elevator, keeping them out of sight of the main pathways as long as possible.

The ship was a labyrinth inside, with little corridors and closets shoved everywhere. Unless Rumlow made a mistake, they might have to wait until police could board in force and flush him out.

The security room was a fairly spacious and bright interior space, with white walls covered with monitors, and stations below that. Halbarad quickly recapped for the staff inside what the situation was and they started rotating the images, watching the passengers, who had been on deck to watch the departure, head to their cabins.

Sif stood back and watched the screens as Thor did the same. A few times, one of the others paused on someone who might be Rumlow but they had to shake their heads.

 _Where would you be, you bastard? Are you arrogant enough to think this has nothing to do with you and you got away clean, or are you already holed up somewhere_?

“Show me the bar areas. Let’s see if he’s drinking to his own cleverness,” she requested, and the tech called up the images for her.

Not at the bars, no, because those had already been cleared, but seeing the bar in the casino reminded her of another comfortable place someone could hang out and be ignored for awhile. “This place has a theater, right? Show me that.”

Because no one was going to look in the theater when there wasn’t a show, would they? There wasn’t a show until the evening. And sure enough, the audience and stage were dim and deserted. Except… “Is there someone there? In the chairs?” she pointed. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but the shape of the back of one of the chairs in the front row seemed not quite the same as the others.

Then, before she could think about whether it was a good idea or not, the tech typed into his computer and the house lights switched on, washing the whole theater in bright light.

The vague dark shape who’d been sitting in the front row shot to his feet and turned enough for the camera to catch his profile.“It’s him!” she exclaimed. On the screen, he looked around warily, waiting for something else to happen, but when nobody came into the theater, he apparently decided the lights turning on had nothing to do with him, and he ambled toward the left aisle.

“Thor, we got him. Halbarad, show us the way. And keep an eye on the exits, make sure he doesn’t leave the theater!” she called back over her shoulder.

Halbarad, grabbing a set of keys, hurried with them. “We should wait for the police.”

“We can take him into custody before they get here,” she told him. “He’s not spooked yet. He’ll run or take hostages once he realizes he’s been made.”

“Yes, we will do this quickly and carefully. He has only a knife for a weapon,” Thor added.

As she and Thor hurried after Halbarad, she asked, “Do we know he only has that knife? Are you sure he doesn’t have a gun?”

“I was told no,” Thor said. “He had no access to the base armory, and their team’s locker was not opened. But yes, we should still be cautious.”

They ran up a narrow staircase, Halbarad calling for people to clear it, and explained to them, “The theater is above us, not far. Entrances on deck 6.”

It was an interesting view of the ship, hurrying through narrow passages that reminded her more of a submarine than a ship the size of the Northern Princess.

They entered a main corridor, double the width and quadruple the nice fixtures, passing some passengers who were still heading back to their cabins. A few tried to stop Halbarad, who very politely but firmly, requested they hurry up and get to their cabins.

But soon they arrived at the Gala Theater, the name in flashing blue neon above smoky glass double doors. This is the main entrance,” he said, “There are two other doors for staff.” Halbarad spoke on his radio, confirming that Rumlow had not exited the theater. "There is the audience camera view, and the doors. None backstage." 

“Watch this door, and have your people lock the others, trap him inside,” Thor instructed. “Sif, with me.” She felt somewhat pulled along in his wake as they approached the double door.

“I will go left, you go right, we try to pinch him between,” he said. He was sending her to the opposite side she had seen Rumlow on the monitor and she wanted to argue, but didn’t bother. He was holding his weapon with easy familiarity and they were long past the point of trying to convince him to keep himself safe. She pulled out her gun from her purse and nodded to him.

“We don’t let him get away,” she said.

“No,“ he agreed, resolute, and pulled open the door enough to look. Then he slipped through and she followed.

Within was a carpeted foyer, with open archways to the left and right to the side aisles. Walking quietly, Sif headed for the archway on the right. The aisle was against the wall, which meant she could put her back to it as she checked each aisle slowly, making sure Rumlow wasn’t crouched between the seats waiting to stab her in the back as she passed. The light was good though, and she saw Thor making similar progress down the opposite aisle.

Everything was quiet, except for the faint brush of their feet on the carpet. She kept an eye at the end of the aisle as well, where it went beneath a curvature of the wall and climbed steps to the stage. There was no orchestra pit, only a small space between the low stage and the first rows.

He was probably hiding backstage. Having heard the captain's announcement, he'd want to be out of sight. He might not even know someone had seen him yet, so they could catch him by surprise.

Thor suddenly bellowed, “Sergeant Rumlow, come forth and surrender! You are surrounded and there is no escape!”

She grimaced. So much for surprise…

There was no answer, so Thor stepped up his game. “You are a coward! Do you fear to face me?”

That brought a response, as a male voice called back, from somewhere on the stage. “You have a gun.”

“Oh, so it is only the helpless you attack?” Thor returned. ‘You truly are a pathetic coward.” He was at the foot of the left-hand stairs, and he didn’t look at her, keeping his attention on where the voice was coming from. “Face me, you murdering scum.”

If Rumlow had a good line of sight on Thor, that didn’t mean he had one on her, depending on where he was on the stage. His voice sounded like he might be coming from behind the curtain on her side of the proscenium. So he might not see her.

“I’m not a fool,” Rumlow answered.

“You are. You tried to murder my friend, my _brother_ , for money,” Thor answered, biting off his words in barely suppressed rage. “And you thought you would get away with it.”

“ _Tried_? Damn, how the fuck is he not dead? I should have cut his throat,” Rumlow retorted, unrepentant.

While Thor had his attention, Sif slipped off her shoes and tiptoed up the steps as silently as she could.

“You wanted him to suffer. But why?” Thor demanded. “What did he do to you?”

There was movement on the other side of the wall, behind the curtains, and Sif heard a soft hissing noise, as if Rumlow blew his breath through clenched teeth. “Suffering? What do either of you know about suffering? In your cushy palaces and your yachts and fancy clothes, with everything handed to you?”

“Really? That’s your excuse?” Thor demanded in disgust. Then he held up his gun upright to display it and deliberately put it down on the last chair in the row. “Come at me, you miserable shit. Let us see how you fight someone ready for you.”

Rather horrified at Thor disarming himself, even if she understood that he was trying to lure Rumlow out of position, Sif dared not breathe as she edged closer to the heavy red curtains hanging to either side of the stage opening.

A heavy footfall on the wooden stage was very close, and Sif’s hand tightend on the gun, ready. c’mon, you bastard, go toward Thor…

He came into view then but must have seen her from the corner of his eyes. “So you’re here too, bitch?”

She moved, pointing the gun. “Freeze!”

But he moved, too. He had a handful of curtain which he threw at her, tangling her up briefly, as he took off backstage. Shoving the curtain off, she ran after him. He ducked behind a backdrop of an island scene and she was tempted to shoot him through it, until she remembered she only had three bullets.

At the end of the backdrop, she whirled around to confront him, to see him disappearing between other scenery, not stopping. She raced after again, now hearing Thor’s heavier tread on the steps.

But she didn’t want to wait for him, because Rumlow could get away. He was military and fit, trained. He could dive over the side of the ship and be gone. And she couldn’t let that happen.

He shoved open the door and she caught it as it was returning, slipping through, wary that he was waiting for her. But no, he was in the short backstage hall with a few dressing room doors and a door at the end. He ignored the dressing rooms and closets, heading for the main door to escape.

When he got there, it didn't open. He hit it a few times, swearing at it, but it wouldn’t open, and he whirled around to confront her, combat knife up.

She moved more slowly, gun steady and far enough back he couldn’t take it from her.

“Am I under arrest?” he taunted. “Aren’t you supposed to say that?”

“I’m not here to arrest you,” she returned coldly.

“What are you gonna do? Kill me? You’re just a spook,” he sneered. "You won't shoot me. You don't have the balls.” He walked toward her deliberately, combat knife extended as if to threaten her.

The same knife he’d plunged into Loki’s gut. As if that was going to her stay her hand.

“I’m not a spook, you moron. I’m an assassin,” she whispered to him.

She aimed and pulled the trigger. Again and again, until it clicked on an empty chamber. One went into his chest, one into the wall over his shoulder, and one into the side of his neck. 

The look of shock on his face was satisfying, as he collapsed backwards, clutching at his neck and the bullet hole she’d put through it. There was a lot of blood spreading on the floor, and while she _could_ kneel down and try to stop it, she didn’t. She used her foot to kick the knife out of Rumlow’s hand, since he wasn’t dead yet, and she didn’t want him to throw it at anyone.

“Sif!” Thor shouted as he ran into the hall behind her. “Sif, are you all right?” When he reached her side, looking down at Rumlow, she noticed he’d retrieved his weapon as well and had it aimed at Rumlow as welll.

“He came at me with the knife,” she said. Which was true, but she wasn’t exactly disappointed that he’d been that stupid.

From the floor, there was a whisper that sounded like, “Help-- help me.”

“Do you hear something?” she asked Thor, while they both stared down at Rumlow.

“I think it must be an echo of when Loki was calling for someone to help him,” Thor answered. “When he was bleeding on the floor, alone. Sif, have I told you how grateful I am to you, that you found him in time?'

“My pleasure. As soon as the tesseract spreads across the world, he’ll be famous forever because of what he’s done. And you,” she nudged Rumlow with her foot. He was still looking at her, trying to glare hatefully through his pain, “you’ll never be more than a footnote to _his_ story, you asshole. If anyone remembers you at all.”

He gasped a few ragged breaths and went still. In the sudden silence, she heard something else through the bulkhead-- sirens. The police were here.

The sound made her twitch; usually sirens meant she had to escape. But Thor put a hand on her shoulder, reminding her of her promise in the car not to run. So she wouldn’t run, and she wouldn’t disappear.

Let them arrest her, if they wanted. Rumlow was her last kill, and one she regretted the least.

Now all she wanted to know was whether she’d avenged Loki’s death or an attempt on his life. Either way she would have no trouble sleeping over Rumlow’s body on the floor.

She set her weapon down and they waited for law enforcement to arrive.

* * *

... tbc... 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

Sif endured being arrested with some wry amusement that she knew not to show. It was a curious feeling to care so little about being arrested after fearing it for so long. She knew she would do all of it again, so no matter what they did to her it was done. But for killing Rumlow, she felt no remorse.

She could tell the detective desperately wanted to interrogate her for murder, eager to do his job and excited by the notoriety of the case, but Thor was having none of that. He told everyone who would listen that Rumlow had attacked her, and she had defended herself. When there was some skepticism that Rumlow had even done all the things they were accusing him of, Thor demanded they contact the base or the hospital and get this sorted with more information.

Finally the captain got involved and after politely informing Thor that this wasn’t Asgard and he couldn't expect special treatment, offered him coffee in his office while they got to the bottom of this.

Sif was left alone in a small, white-washed questioning room with water. WIth time to think, she decided to stick to the story that Rumlow had attacked her, and she had defended herself. Her three shots would  support that claim, appearing to be panicked and lucky, when they had been neither, but she wasn't going to tell them that.

The detective re-entered, apparently with new direction from his boss, since he was subdued as he announced that he was there to take her statement. She hesitated, knowing it was a risk, self-incrimination and all that, but she decided to tell him everything about what had happened on the base and her and Thor’s decision to go look for Rumlow.

“On your own?” he asked incredulously, in the first expression beyond his dismay at her description of finding Loki on the floor.

She shrugged. “Thor wanted to, and I just wanted to find Rumlow.” She felt a bit badly about throwing Thor’s decisions under the bus, when she’d shared in them, but Thor had a reputation for recklessness and it could only help her. When the detective's lip curled in disapproval but no disbelief, she knew she had him.

After the tale was done, the detective frowned at her. “So, self-defense? You rushed to get to him before the police so you could _arrest_ him?”

Her stomach clenched a little but she kept her expression still. “We wanted to find him and not let him escape. We knew you - “ she gestured meaning the police, “would move too slowly. Rumlow was a special ops soldier, highly trained-- he got on that cruise ship and no one had any idea he was there. He could have escaped, taken hostages or killed people once he was cornered. So we were in a hurry, and yeah, we were angry. I mean, look, I still have Loki’s blood under my nails from when I was trying to keep him from bleeding out. So I wasn't going to let his killer get away, if that's what you're asking. And I'm not shedding any tears for his death, but I did intend to bring him in alive to face justice.” She set her hand back on the table and looked up, licking her lips. “Do you - have you heard how he’s doing? Is he out of surgery yet?”

The detective’s broad face softened and he shook his head, now reminded that the reason all this was happening was still fighting for his life in the hospital. “Not yet, there was a rumor an hour ago that he had died, but the palace denied that. The king is on the way here, and the army has control of the hospital.”

She’d wanted better news, but had to take what she could get. “Oh. Well, at least he’s hanging in there.” She opened her mouth to ask to go to him, but blew out a breath instead, knowing that wasn’t in the cards. Not yet, at least.

The detective left her then, turning on the television for her, and bid her to wait.

So she did. She found a station reporting on the attack, though she understood little of it. But none of it sounded mournful, so she kept watching, trying to use her shoddy German to understand what the newsreaders were saying.

The door opened and Thor entered, escorted by police. “Sif! We are going to the hospital. Or,” he corrected himself, “I am. They want you to stay here.”

She’d started to rise at his first words and then plopped back down in her chair. “What are they going to do?”

He approached and took her hand, reassuring. “It is all legal things, Sif. Do not worry. All will be well, be patient. You did nothing wrong.”

 _Well, I did a lot wrong, but killing Rumlow isn’t one of them_ , she thought but tried a smile at him. “I’ll wait. Just… would you call me when you get there? I just want to know how he’s doing?”

“I will,” he promised. “And you will soon join me.”

“I’d like that,” she agreed.

He left, and she was on her own again. She found a sheet of scrap paper and a pencil and started to draw the vase of flowers in the windowsill, while she waited. As time crept by, she started to wonder if she’d been forgotten. Had someone meant to release her, or process her for jail, and no one had gotten the memo? Maybe they were waiting for Loki to wake up and corroborate her accusation - though honestly Rumlow had stolen a car, Loki’s phone, and run away, so it wasn’t just her word backing that up.

Or was something going on outside that made her situation unimportant? Another attack? Had the Winter Soldier been spotted? She thought he’d probably gotten out of the country by now, but allwith  the media on this latest attack, it wouldn’t be hard for him to find out where Loki was.

It was terrible sitting there, waiting, feeling abandoned and useless.

When the door opened, she started violently, not expecting anyone. To her surprise, Deputy Coulson entered, shut the door behind him, and crossed his arms, looking grumpy as he glowered at her.

She couldn’t resist smiling at him. “Are you my lawyer? You look like a lawyer.” The smile slipped for a more serious question, “Do I need one? No one told me I should get one. But now it occurs to me it was kind of stupid to let them question me without one.”

“No,” he answered. “First, tell me, did you have to kill him?”

She set down the pencil. “He came at me. I pulled the trigger.”

He nodded, understanding what she didn’t say as much as she did. “Good. Word is, he’s out of surgery. They expect full recovery.”

She leaned back, with a long breath of relief and smile. “Oh, thank God, nobody would tell me anything.”

“Do you want me to spring you?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No. I promised I wouldn’t run away.”

“It doesn’t sound like there’ll be charges, and being the prince’s personal,” he hesitated and said, “ _friend_ won’t hurt.”

She rolled her eyes at his snide emphasis. “You know, with an attitude like that toward me, maybe you should start the process of getting me that fabulous cover identity I’m supposed to have so I can get out of what’s left of your hair.” Because she wasn’t above a snide retort herself, especially now that he’d told her Loki was going to be okay.

He pulled an envelope from his suit jacket pocket. “That’s what I’m here for. This is a start. You were with the State Department. Various postings in countries you were actually in. And we’ve cleared your Interpol warrant.”

She took the envelope with hands that were suddenly shaking. “Thank you,” she said, with a more genuine appreciation. “Thank you for a second chance, Deputy Coulson. It means a lot to me, that I can do better things now.”

His stone-faced expression relaxed with a gimmer of a smile of approval. “See that you do, Ms Rowan. Because I’ll be watching. There’s someone else here to see you, now that’s settled.” He opened the door and called, “Captain, come in.”

It was a surprise to see Captain Rogers, who came in to shake her hand. “May I?” he asked, indicating the seat.

“Uh, sure, of course.”

“I, uh, first, I wanted to apologize to you,” he said to her, earnest blue eyes fixed on hers, as he leaned forward making the wooden chair creak. “Sergeant Rumlow was one of my men, and you should never have been in a position to be threatened by him. Or to be arrested because of him--”

She held up a hand to stop him. “He’s not your fault. He heard about the prize money and his greed took over, from what he said to me and Thor. This wasn’t planned; it was opportunity.”

“Still. He dishonored the uniform, and my unit. We’re all very upset that he would do this.”

“Well, not to rain on your parade, but this sounds like a speech you should give to Loki, or maybe his father, not to me.”

Those broad shoulders slumped briefly, and he nodded. “You’re right. But I wanted you to know we’re not all like that. And to tell you, just as soon as the investigation is over and we get clearance, we’re going after Thanos. This didn’t stop the mission, only made it more important.”

“Then I still want to come with you.” His surprise that she would offer, was gratifiying. She amended, with a brief laugh, “Unless I’m in jail, of course.”

“I’d be honored to have you, Ms Rowan.”

They clasped hands and she hoped she’d get the chance to go.

* * *

tbc... 

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

Loki stirred, pulling himself out of sticky unconsciousess and into a vague awareness that seemed to rise and fall like an ocean swell. Light came and went, and when he was awake enough to notice, he thought it had been a long time before he opened his eyes.

The ceiling was plain white and dull, the smell was institutional and antiseptic. And the sound, a soft hum and occasional beep, was clearly mechanical. He listened to it, and eventually the thought crossed his mind that he didn’t know what the sound was. He didn’t know where he was either. But he was comfortable and sleepy so he could wonder all that later.

He was lying in a bed, with a small pillow beneath his head. Good for going back to sleep.

“Loki,” a familiar voice said, heavy with relief. “You’re awake. Thank God.’

Loki turned his head to see his father, hunched by the side of his bed, leaning toward him. Behind him, there was a narrow window, covered by horizontal blinds that were open only a little to let in light, and beside the window, hung a framed print of a painting of one of the fjords. Loki stared at it, trying to decide if he’d been there, until his gaze wandered back to the window. It might be nice to know what was outside.

His thoughts seemed slow, but that didn’t concern him. His mind was still bundled in the cotton blankets of sleep, and he drifted peacefully. He became aware that his breathing was somewhat restricted and each breath ached, but not enough that he cared about it.

Something gripping Loki’s hand brought his attention back to Laufey’s face.

Right, his father was there. That was his hand on Loki’s. “What--” His voice came out all rusty and his mouth was so dry, his tongue didn’t want to form words. “Papa?”

“Yes, son. I’m here.” Laufey’s hand brushed Loki’s forehead, smoothing back his hair. “You’re going to be well. You’ll heal up and be back to normal. The doctors here did a good job stitching you up, and it’ll be no time before you’re up and about again.”

Loki had the impression that what Laufey was saying was important but couldn’t muster the will to care what doctors had to do with anything.

Laufey’s lips twitched with amusement, but his thumb rubbed the back of Loki’s hand in a soothing way. “You have some strong pain-killers right now.”

Drugs. That was why he was so hazy. It was pleasant enough except for how the inside of his mouth felt like he had a dead vole in there. “Water?” he asked, surprised by the faintness of his own voice.

Laufey turned to find a little paper cup on the table nearby. “Here, they will not permit you to drink yet, with the anaethesia still in you, but there is some ice.” With a tiny spoon, he slipped some pieces between Loki’s lips, rather like feeding a baby, and Loki thought that he probably ought to be embarrassed. But he liked that his father was there, taking care of him. He certainly didn’t feel like moving, himself.

The bits of ice helped to ease the disgusting feeling in his mouth, if not the taste. After that he put together doctors, anaesthesia, and pain killers and remembered why he would need them. He’d been stabbed. He lifted a hand to find that one had an IV stuck in it and a tube attached to the apparatus by his bed. He tried to touch his stomach, and despite the bandages and the drugs, pain shot through him, bringing an uncomfortable awareness with it, chasing away the haze.

A soft sound came out of his mouth, and his middle throbbed worse with each breath. Laufey plucked his hand away and set it back down at Loki’s side. “Don’t touch it,” he advised.

He looked up at Laufey’s face. “Papa?”

Laufey brushed his cheek and waited for Loki to gather his thoughts. He was frowning, and Loki remembered that look on his face -- worrying, fearful, loving -- from when he’d stayed at his mother’s side. “Yes, Loki?”

“Where am I?”

“In hospital. Bryggen.”

“You… came here?” he asked, knowing there was something wrong with that, but unsure what.

But Laufey misundertood his confusion. “Of course, I came, Loki,’ he answered, first outraged then moderating his tone to a more hurt reassurance. “I was not so far away that I couldn’t come to you, when you were so hurt.”

“But… danger…”

Understanding lighting his eyes, Laufey let out a soft bark of a laugh. “So they told me, you and I should not be in the same place. I told them all to go to hell. They had to find a way, because I would go to you.”

That was warming to hear. Comforting. But Laufey being so determined to be his father, reminded Loki of what he’d thought would be his last regrets. He swallowed hard, trying to find both words and voice. “I’ll be... better son. I -- I’m sorry…”

Laufey shook his head. “No, Loki. No need to be sorry.” He must’ve seen lingering traces of Loki’s doubt, because he added, “I wouldn’t change anything about who you are. You are my son, and I always love you. You and I have had our disagreements, Loki, but I’ve always been proud of you.” His free hand smoothed back Loki’s hair gently, and Loki felt hot tears prick his eyes at the words. He blinked, trying to chase them away, but instead pushed them out of his eyes.

Laufey thumbed them away from the sides of his face. “These are things I should have told you more often and I shouldn’t have waited until you were in this much danger to say them, but they have always been true.”

If it was true for Laufey, it was true for Loki, too. It wasn’t just the king who had held back words that he should have said before, and old resentments uncurled in his heart and dissolved away. “I love you, too, Papa.”

Laufey smiled and bent down to kiss Loki’s forehead. ”You are the best son any man could ask for. But now, you need rest. I see your eyelids drooping.”

Loki nodded his agreement and closed his eyes. But when something metallic clanged in the hall outside, his eyes shot open again.

“Shhh, it’s all right.” Laufey brought his other hand to cradle Loki’s between his. “You’re safe now. Sleep.” He lifted their joined hands to kiss Loki’s. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Reassured by that, and exhausted despite how little time he’d been awake, Loki let his eyes close.

* * *

 

The detective handed Sif her passport and then her purse. “You are free to go.” He nodded to the young man in the green uniform waiting on the other side of the cuonter. “The guardsman has instruction to bring you to the hospital. The king has summoned you.”

She swallowed. That sounded so much more impressive than “Loki’s dad wants to talk to you”. Slipping the strap of her purse over her shoulder - without the weight of the weapon now of course - she tried a smile. “Okay. Great. Thank you.”

“Ms. Rowan?” the detective said, “I did not say so before, it was not correct, but thank you for helping Prince Loki.”

“My pleasure, Detective.” She went to join the guard.

He nodded to her. “Ms Rowan. This way. I am ordered to bring you to the king.”

“Of course. Am I going to be able to see Loki?”

“I cannot say, miss,” He answered, not exactly a surprise that he wouldn’t or couldn’t tell her. But if she was really being summoned by the king, and not by Loki, it was probably going to be something about ‘thanks for saving his life, in exchange I got you out of jail. Now go away, we don’t need any more murderous Americans hanging around.’

“Do you know how he’s doing?”

 In the car he glanced at her and answered, “He awakened, I heard.”

“He woke up? Oh, that’s great, I’m so glad.” She leaned back in the chair and watched outside the window as the small car headed around main streets and then up the side of a hill, to where she could see a bigger building lurking behind a wall and many trees.

At the gate their car had to be called in then approved, and they drove up the path. It wasn’t just one big building, she realized, it was a large complex of several older, smaller buildings and a large, more modern one behind that. The car had to pass another checkpoint to go to the rear building, and there were more uniformed soldiers waiting there as the car stopped.

Margud was one of them, and she came to the car to take charge of Sif. Very properly, she greeted Sif and it wasn’t until they were inside the building and briefly alone, she turned to Sif and said, “You saved him.” She grabbed Sif’s arm tightly. “Thank you. I am sorry you had to be involved.”

“it’s okay, I wanted to help,’ Sif reassured her.

Seeming more relaxed, Margud let go and squared her shoulders. “The king awaits your arrival. Come.”

They went up in an elevator, using a key to access the floor. It looked like any modern hospital corridor beyond that, wide enough for several gurneys to pass each other, big automatic doors, white floors, bright lighting, and random equipment parked in the hall.

It seemed this wing or at least this portion was empty, however, with only two nurses at the station, and only two other rooms occupied.

At another guard station, they passed into a room intended as a waiting area, but the extra seats had been stacked to the side to clear space for some tables to be used as work desks. Laufey was sitting behind one, laptop in front of him, talking to someone on a landline phone, while Maxine worked on a tablet nearby.

When Sif would’ve approached the desk, Margud subtly pulled on her shirt at the back to keep her near the door while they waited to be acknowledged.

Laufey saw them and finished up his conversation, to beckon Sif forward.

Sif felt like she was at the principal’s office, standing in front of Laufey’s temporary desk, especially as he rose to his feet. “Ms Rowan.”

She had to clear her throat to find her voice and bobbed her head in some nervous gesture she was embarrassed to be making even as she did it. “Uh. Sir. You wanted to see me?”

He came around the desk and approached her. She held her ground though she desperately wanted to back away. He didn’t look angry, but she didn’t know what he wanted with her. She folded her hands together, then pulled them apart to try not look so much like a chid who’d gotten into the cookies.

Laufey looked into her face for a long moment and then, unexpectedly, he reached out and took her hand, as if to shake it, but then brought his other hand to keep hers between both of his. “Ms Rowan. Thank you,” he said, very earnestly, “I wanted to say that to you directly. Thank you for saving my son’s life. I know without you finding and tending him, he would have died.”

“Oh.” She looked up at him, letting out a relieved huff of breath. “I - don't know about that; Grundroth was right behind me and he did most of the first aid. I just wish I’d found him sooner.”

“You found him, and you helped him,” he said. “That was enough.” He let go of her hands. “I think it was foolish to go after the assassin with Thor, though this is hardly the first time Thor had persuaded his companion into something rash.” His pale eyes looked far away and pained, no doubt at some memory of Loki and Thor doing something reckless.

With a small shake of his head, he looked at her again. “I am told you intend to go on the strike team after Thanos. Is that true?”

She wondered how he knew that, when it was only a couple of hours ago she'd told Captani Rogers, but then he was the king and he was highly motivated to know these things. “Yes, sir. I want to finish this. Not just for Loki’s sake, but for my own. Thanos must know I’ve gotten in the way several times now. He doesn’t take betrayal very well.”

“No. that is very true. Have a care for yourself . I think Loki would take it poorly if you were hurt or killed.”

“I think I’d take it poorly, too, so I will, sir.”

His lips quirked in a smile at her quip. “Just so. I know he would like to see you before you leave.”

Sif nodded and waited for the rest, certain there was a ‘but’ coming.

She raised her chin as he said nothing, looking at her. Then black brows lifted and he said, with a gesture of invitation, “You can go in. Margud will escort you to his room.”

“Really?” she blurted. “I thought-” she stopped, not wanting to give voice to her suspicion.

Laufey regarded her a moment and then said, “You are not what I expected, Ms Rowan. I cannot say I’m pleased at your former… profession. But, I believe you intend only good. It seems inevitable that Loki would be attracted to a woman of such intrigue and strength.” Hearing that, Sif almost let her mouth drop open. A compliment? The king continued, “He needs someone who does not covet his title or fear his brain. However, I will not approve any match that does not include you spending time together not in danger. You may find that excitement has covered a bad fit.”

She blinked, trying to figure that out. Was the king actually giving his blessing to their dating like normal people? He wasn’t sending her away, which was amazing in itself, but he was also saying he was foreseeing a more permanent attachment and he didn’t want them to rush into it. She could certainly agree with that.

“I think that wise, sir. Definitely we could use some ordinary time together.” As ‘ordinary’ as Loki got, anyway, which wasn’t all that ordinary, but that was what made him so interesting. She’d love to get coffee or dinner with him without getting shot at. Now she had Laufey’s approval for doing it, too. “And thank you. For giving me a chance.”

The more severe cast of his features lightened, and he said, “My son is very special to me, Ms Rowan. He is all I have, and I want to see him happy and loved.”

“So do I, sir,” she added softly. “I’m not sure where he stopped being a mark and became someone I’d defend with my life, but he did.”

“Which is why you are not in prison,” he said, smiling like it was a joke, but she didn’t think he was joking at all. “Go in, Sif.” He gestured her toward the door.

She walked down the hall and looked at the Royal Guard at parade rest on either side of the door. Margud spoke with them, and she smiled at Sif. “You can go in. He’s awake. But do not stay long.”

Sif rubbed her hands on her slacks, anxious, but she smiled her thanks and went in. The door closed behind her.

The hospital room was simple: all white-washed walls, pine cabinets and trim, and a narrow window opposite the door that faced the building’s courtyard. The window sill held three large vases of flowers, fewer than she would have expected, though perhaps most of them had been given away or not accepted for security.

There was one bed in the room, and Loki was sitting with the top of the bed angled up just enough to see the television on the opposite wall. He was wearing a hospital gown with little green flowers on it, and a blanket over his legs. There was an IV drip in his left arm, and some wires wound their way beneath his shirt, but other than that, there was no other scary equipment attached to him, which meant he was doing well.

She hadn’t seen him since she’d been afraid he would bleed to death on the base, and for the space of a few breaths, she just looked at him and her insides felt warm with the knowledge he was alive. He was there, sitting up, conscious, not dying, not dead, _alive_.

He didn’t seem to have noticed the door opened, or didn’t look right away, so she was able to look her fill and try to absorb this miracle. Finally he did turn his head, and recognition sparked in his eyes and a curve of his lips. She smiled back. “Hi,” she greeted. “Are you okay with a visitor?”

When his expression didn’t change, that vague happy smile on his face, she knew: he was on heavy pain-killers. It was confirmation when he blinked in seeming incomprehension to what she said. He muted the television, which was playing a local cooking show, and said, “Hello.” He waved his fingers at the television then at her, to come closer. “I-- sorry. Not thinking English well. Come.”

She perched on the nearby chair. “That’s okay. I wanted to see you. How are you feeling?”

“Amazing,” he answered with another of those smiles. “I only hurt when I move.”

“So the drugs are good then?” she teased.

He nodded, still smiling. “Very recommended,” he said with a doped-up seriousness. It took a moment then the smile faltered, as a thought hit, and he asked, “And you? You are okay?”

“I’m fine,” she reassured him. “Not hurt at all. Someone told you Rumlow was dead, right?”

He nodded and shifted in the bed, grimacing with pain but also more alert afterward. “Thor told me you killed him.”

“I did,” she answered. She hesitated, looked down and bit her lip. “And he told you it was self-defense. Because that’s what I told them. But you should know, that’s a lie. I shot him.”

“He was attacking you? No?”

She shrugged. “He made a move. I could’ve gotten out of the way. But I didn’t. I just... “ she swallowed, “I couldn’t bear the thought of him getting away, or sitting in some cell with three meals a day for the rest of his life, after he’d tried to murder you.” She should feel bad, she guessed, for taking it into her own hands, but she didn’t. She would feel bad if Loki thought she’d done something wrong, though. “I wanted you to know the truth.”

He closed his eyes, creases at the corners deepening, until she was sorry she’d mentioned it and looked down at her hands. “I suppose I should be horrified,” he said finally. “Trial and prison are _civilized_ , of course; it is what I should want, I know. But honestly I’m glad that I never have to look at his face again. So, thank you.”

Her head snapped up to search his face, to see that he meant it. He stretched a hand in her direction, falling short from reaching her. “You keep doing all these heroic things for me,” he murmured.

“Heroic? After what i just said?”

He frowned in weary confusion. “Is that not right? Epic, then. You do these epic things for me, and I don’t undersatnd what I did to deserve it.”

She looked at his face and smiled, shaking her head, amazed. Anyone else in his position would simply accept it as a fact; that of course people would do that for them. But he was impressed by her.

“You inspire me to be better,” she answered, and touched his hand lighly. “Nobody’s ever done that before.”

He drew her fingers between his, to hold onto her hand. He had nice hands, long fingers, warm skin... He said, “But I’m not that kind of person.”

“You’re not a saint, if that’s what you mean. And you have the common sense of a drunk moth next to a candle, but when you talk about the tesseract and what it can be, I hear the future, Loki. I hear that you care about the world and the people in it. Do you know how rare that is? I’ve met men with power and money who never do anything but make the world _worse_. You could be one of those people, but you’re not.” She smiled, thinking of Laufey outside. “You were raised right.”

“In my fancy palace on the hill?” he joked.

She shook her head, smiling. “No, in your farm house, collecting chicken eggs in short pants.”

“Probably true,” he allowed. A silence fell while he looked at her face and then his gaze dropped to his hand still holding hers. “You… don’t seem like you’re backing away this time,” he said finally.

“I’m not,” she answered. “When I found you on the floor, dying, I knew I couldn’t do it again, if you gave me a second chance. And then Thor and I talked when we were looking for Rumlow, and he helped me get over my fear.”

“Your fear? Of me?”

She shook her head. “No. That I would ruin you and all the good you can do. If people spend more time digging up the nastiness of my past than understanding the tesseract, or if they reject you because of me, that’s not right, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to tarnish you with who I am, or was. But Thor told me I shouldn’t assume the worst.”

Loki considered that, not as quickly as he probably would have without the drugs, but finally he said, “You wanted to protect me. From gossip.”

“When you put it that way, yeah, I guess.”

He looked up at her, his smile warm. “That is very kind, Sif. But you know that’s Maxine’s job. She does…” he waved his free hand in a vague gesture trying to come up with the word, and said, “that thing. She will manage it. And if people don’t want the tesseract because of you-- fuck them, they’re getting it anyway.”

She had to smile at the declaration, a bit drunken sounding but he meant it. It put her fears to rest; it would not be stopped now. The future was coming, and if Loki wasn’t being put off by a knife in his gut, words weren’t going to do it either.

“Good, that’s what I want,’ she reassured him.

He pouted his lower lip and asked, “Not me?” The joking expression faded and he said, “You don’t, I know, you said so.”

It took a moment to figure out what he was talking about, before she remembered that she’d told Laufey she didn’t want to bed his son. “I wasn’t going to admit the truth to your _father,”_ she protested. “Certainly not back then. And I kissed you, remember?’

“And you pulled away,” he reminded her.

“Well, I’m not now,” she retorted, and lifted his hand to her cheek and then planted a kiss in his palm, folding his fingers around it. “There, my promise for when you’re better. And,” she hesitated and had to dampen dry lips, “if you’re still interested, when you’re out of here and when I’m back, we can start again with something normal, like dinner?”

His suddenly flashing grin was brilliant with delight. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Well, I still think you’re crazy not to want me out of your life, but yes, I am.”

His thumb rubbed the back of her hand. “Then I accept. If you don’t invite a pretend assassin this time,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh, as he chuckled and then grimaced at the pain to his midsection at the motion.

“No more assassins,” she promised, more seriously, “real or fake. I’m going with Captain Rogers’ team to take down Thanos.”

“No. Don’t go,” he objected, but corrected himself so it didn’t sound so much like a command, though it was so plaintive she wouldn’t have taken it that way anyway, “You don’t have to go.”

“I need to,” she murmured. “You and I won’t ever be safe ‘til he’s gone.”

He accepted that with weary reluctance, nodding, and he murmured, “Then... be careful.”

“I will,” she promised. His gaze wandered past her, looking at the television, eyes falling closed before he opened them again, to turn his attention back to her.

“You look tired. I should go.”

He didn’t let go of her hand. “Stay. Tell me about how you found Rumlow.”

She agreed but since she doubted this wakefulness would last long, she pitched her voice low. Before she and Thor were on the cruise ship, his eyes closed and his hand relaxed, so she stopped talking. He didn’t wake, so she smiled, knowing he was out like a light.

She sat there, looking at his face, so handsome but thinner than she remembered from her first view. His black lashes sat stark against pale shadowed skin beneath his eyes and the creases of pain and stress lingered even when he slept. She wanted to smooth them away, but she couldn’t, so she sat there and watched him breathe.

 _Oh, God, am I in love with you? Thor was right, I am. I am, of course I am_.

This time, it wasn’t a frightening thought, and she didn’t want to back away. This time, she would try.

But first, she had to get rid of their enemy, or there could be no trying for more. Gently she disengaged her hand and bent over. She considered kissing his lips, but decided she’d rather he remember it. So she kissed his cheek instead, in a silent promise that she was coming back.

* * *

tbc...


	26. Chapter 26

At Maxine’s suggestion Sif went down to the restaurant, and there she was happy to see ordinary people, including family of patients in other parts of the hospital, and guards and nurses on break, getting dinner. 

In a corner of the restaurant, near the box of plants, she ate her food, only now getting relaxed enough to realize how tired she was. It was pretty late, though the sun outside was trying to tell her it was daytime. She’d have to find somewhere to sleep. 

A commotion at the door attracted her attention, and she looked up in time to see Tony Stark strolling in, casually and expensively dressed, wearing sunglasses with small purple lenses so he looked like a movie star. She saw more than one person turn to stare at him and whisper to their companions, trying to figure out who he was. Tony affected not to notice the attention, looked around, and then came over with his hands in his suit jacket pockets. “Hey, Sif, there you are.”

Her tired brain took a moment to catch up. “Tony? Is Pepper with you?”

“Nope, she had some company things to tend to, or she’d be here. She says hi.” He plopped into the opposite chair and wriggled on the plastic surface. “Wow, this is the worst chair I’ve ever sat in. Who decided drunken Asgardians should design furniture?” he asked rhetorically, and she just looked at him, wondering if there was a point somewhere. “I have something for you. When we grabbed your passport, Pepper packed your suitcase, too. She was upset you’d come here with so little. So I have that. Guard’s searching it right now, though I told them there was nothing sketchy in it.” 

She was too tired to deal with his verbiage. “Did you see him?” 

The torrent of words stopped, and his face transformed and grew still. “No. Not yet. They said he was asleep, and wouldn’t let me in.” Then he forced a smile and said, “I’ll see him later. But you, I hear,” he leaned back regarding her, over the top rim of his small sunglasses, “are quite the hero.”

She shook her head. “No. Not really.”

“Well, thank you anyway. Here.” He took something out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table to her. She picked it up to discover it was a credit card with her name on it.

“What’s this?” 

“A gift. In case you need hotel rooms, or a nice dress, or whatever. Spend it however you want.” 

“Thank you, but no.” She tried to pass it back. “I owe you so much already.” 

“Take it. It’s just money. I spent more than that just getting here. I think. Anyway, not the point.” He waved a hand dismissively and took off the sunglasses, so he could look her in the eye. “You saved one of my best friends. And I don’t have a lot of those. So just think of me as your fairy godmother and take it.” He pushed it back across the table.

She had to smile wryly at that. “My fairy godmother, huh? I’ll share it with all my mouse friends.” 

“Hey, you want to spend it on mice, it’s yours,” he said with a shrug, and no apparent problem with it.

She gave in and took the card, inwardly shaking her head at the foibles of the super rich. Maybe she’d treat herself to one nice thing. 

“Oh,” Tony snapped his fingers. “I have another gift for you. Well, it was for Loki, but you need it more right now -- I made better body armor. Light, flexible, and should stop just about anything.” 

She didn’t have to think about that one. “Give it to him.”

“He’s not the one going into a war zone,” he pointed out. “You can give it to him when you get back. I don’t think they’ll let him wear body armor in the hospital anyway.” 

That was probably true. Assuming the attack went well, she would probably be back before they let him out of bed. So reluctant though she was to accept, she nodded. “All right. You’re sure it works?”

“I’m sorry, did you just ask me if my invention _works_?” he asked, offended. 

She had to smile, glad to have needled him. “Just asking.” 

He harrumpfed and made a gesture as if to take back the card, but then stood up. “Let me hand over the case to you, and then I hear Thor is going to take you both back to the base.” 

She caught his arm in the hall. “Tony -- I know I said it before, but I mean it, thank you. You’ve helped me so much, and I know you burned a favor with Coulson--”

Tony snorted. “Nah, he still owes me.”

“But all this on Loki’s behalf--”

He lifted a hand to stop her. “Nope. Not all. Most, maybe eighty percent, but at least some is just for you. You’re trying to turn it around, and I respect that.”

“Well, thank you. I hope one day to be as good a friend to you as Loki is. Or at least get up to fifty percent friend,” she teased. 

He looked surprised before he blinked it away and chuckled. “What would fifty percent even be?” he wondered. “Half a friend, the other half enemy, or is it more like eighty percent acquaintance, five enemy, and fifteen friend….”

She patted his shoulder and let his chatter pass over her.

* * *

Thor got her settled in her room in the base dormitory, and she thanked him vaguely and then flopped on the narrow bed, hoping to go to sleep instantly.

Instead her mind decided to replay the day’s events, obsessively circling around finding Loki covered in blood on the floor. Only focusing deliberately on him in the hospital bed, awake and holding her hand, finally let her relax enough to sleep. 

In the morning, the rush of others getting ready early woke her up, and she stayed in bed to let them all clear out before more leisurely she went to shower and change. Pepper, bless her, had figured out which were Sif’s favorite jeans and packed them in the suitcase, and Sif was glad to put them on. She felt alone when she emerged into the sunlight, realizing that Loki wasn’t around. She hoped he’d had a good night, and presuming he’d gotten his phone and laptop back by now, she took out her phone to text him good morning. There was no immediate answer, but she smiled as she put the phone into her pocket. 

At breakfast, she was told by four different people that General Leifvettr had ordered a briefing at 0800, next by Thor himself, and then another one was coming up to her, and she clenched her jaw so she wouldn’t be tempted to snap at him that she knew already. She reminded herself that they were trying to be helpful. 

The young private said, “Mister Coulson requests you come, Ms Rowan.”

Coulson wanted her first, before the briefing? That was curious. So she agreed, cleared her tray, and followed the private upstairs to one of the offices. 

Once the door was closed behind her, Sif saw that Coulson was not alone. 

She stared and her hand reached for a gun she wasn’t carrying. Then she took a step back, hand going back to find the door knob, so she could get out. 

Because that woman standing next to Coulson with the bright red hair and the casual black leather jacket was the Black Widow. 

Her perfect lips smiled. “Hello again, Sif,” she said. Politely but with a bit of a taunt in it. Because she knew what a shock this was. 

“What the hell is _she_ doing here?” Sif demanded of Coulson, who was standing behind the plain wooden desk in his suit as if nothing was out of the ordinary at all. 

Romanova sauntered a few steps nearer. “Here’s a funny thing you should know -- what you ended up doing, I was already doing.” 

Sif blinked and felt slow and stupid - 'already doing'? What the hell did that mean?

Then Romanova added, perhaps taking pity on Sif’s confusion since she wasn’t as condescending as she could have been, “I was recruited into the Agency three years ago.”

She was a spy? The notorious Black Widow assassin was really a spy for the CIA? 

Sif snapped her mouth shut, realizing she must look like a goldfish, and looked to Coulson. “She’s one of yours?” 

He was not apologetic. “Not always, but now, yes. She was in Stuttgart as undercover protection. The idea was to put someone… notorious, to discourage any other attempts.” Then he sighed. “She was supposed to get close to Loki through Stark. And then you made a hash of that plan.” 

Sif ran all that through her mind and tripped over one important fact, confronting Romanova again. “I could’ve _killed_ him in the dance, but you didn’t do anything to stop me.” 

Romanova smiled and shook her head. “You were so taken with him and frightened of me, I knew you weren’t going to do it. When you pulled the fire alarm, I thought for a moment you might make a move, but you were fixed on me, not on him. And when you outed me to Tony, that sealed it. Phil didn’t buy it; he feared you were playing some kind of long game, but you’re not like that. The line always mattered to you, and the more you knew him, the less you were going to cross it.”

Sif felt like she should argue, but subsided, since Romanova was actually right. She licked her lips and admitted, “Yeah, that’s true. So, why tell me now? What are you doing here?” She wondered if Romanova was still tasked with protecting Loki from inside, and Sif was uneasy at the notion that she’d be here, while Sif was gone. Not that she doubted Loki, but… Romanova was very attractive, and Laufey had already mentioned how Loki was attracted to intriguing, even dangerous women.

The answer was something else, though. “Because I’m going with you on the strike team, and I didn’t want you to freak out,” she answered, flicking her eyes to where Sif was still clutching the doorknob. Sheepishly, Sif released it and rubbed that hand on her jeans. 

“You’re going? But… why?”

“You’re not the only with a personal stake in this.” 

“Oh?” Sif questioned, glancing at both of them, wondering what either of these super spies had of a personal nature. Although Thanos did have an uncanny ability to ruin families, so she wouldn’t be surprised to find out there was something else.

Romanova glanced at Coulson, and he nodded permission for her to explain. “Barton used to be ours, too. Before he went rogue. But now we know, that’s not true. He was compromised by Thanos.” 

“The Agency is still trying to figure it out. Some kind of brain-washing,” Coulson said, shaking his head. “It’s very disturbing. But we wouldn’t have known it, without you stopping him.” 

“So thank you for not killing him,” Romanova said with a wry, but genuine smile.

Sif was just glad he was in custody and not dangerous to Loki anymore, though the idea that Thanos could do that to someone was new and frightening. 

Romanova continued, “Also, there was a report of Winter Soldier in Gdansk, so we suspect he’s headed back to Thanos. We'd like to stop him, too."

“Oh, that’s great. Did you tell the people here that he’s out of the country?” 

“Not yet,” Coulson said. “We need confirmation. And it’s no bad thing for their security to remain high level right now. Chitauri mercs are still in play, too. We know they got out of the US, but not where they went after that.”

Sif thought of Loki in his hospital bed, asleep, and felt ill that she was going to leave him. What if they attacked while she was gone? she knew, logically, that she was not his sole guardian -- he had hundreds of people devoted to his protection now -- but her heart remembered blood all over the floor and the fear that he was slipping away from her.

“His people will watch over him,” Romanova told her and Sif glanced at her, to meet eyes that now seemed kind. “If we get Thanos, he can’t pay them, and they won’t do it.”

Sif nodded, trying to put away the anxiety and remind herself that was why she wanted to go on the mission. “I know.” 

Coulson looked at his phone. “Time for the briefing. But first, and this is just for you two, you are not bound by the military rules of engagement. If you have the chance to eliminate Thanos, take it. That is a presidential directive.” 

Both women exchanged a look of perfect understanding and nodded. Thanos was not getting out of Belarus alive.


End file.
